There Are Worse Things In This World Than Dying
by Alva Starr
Summary: Before journalist Lax Morales (Norman Reedus) interviewed teenage school shooter Herman Howards he had an undercover assignment working for the FBI to infiltrate the Aryan brotherhood in Georgia. The story made his career but haunts his memory. This story focuses on his time in Georgia and the girl he shouldn't have met. Lax/OC Rated M language and strong sexual content.
1. Was it Worth It?

**_The primary focus of the film Hello Herman is Norman Reedus' character journalist Lax Morales' relationship with teenage school shooter Herman Howards. The primary focus of this fiction, however, is the back story about Lax's experience as an undercover journalist working with the FBI to infiltrate an Aryan Brotherhood group in Georgia. The experience haunts Lax and causes him to relate to Herman more than he'd expected. This side storyline interested me more than the main plot. I found myself wishing they'd make a full movie about the undercover work. So I took what I could from the film and play script then went off on my own. I hope you enjoy and as always, thank you for taking the time to read! xx_**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings , etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way affiliated with the owners, creators or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... . ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

"Did you do it Lax?"

The glass was thick with a heavy base, and when he set it on the table the ice clinked, sounding louder than it should have in the empty bar. He stared into his drink then finally up into her eyes. "Why can't you let it go?"

"You hit a fifteen-year-old African-American kid with a bat and then watched as he was beaten to death by your... Brothers."

"They were never my brothers, Isa."

"They were that night." She countered, tracing the lip if her own tumbler with a french manicured fingertip, letting her voice accuse as harshly as her eyes.

"According to the official report it never happened." He stated.

"I've been doing a little digging. I'm a journalist for Christ's sake Lax."

"You don't trust me anymore?"

When she didn't answer he went on, "What else could I have done? If I didn't, they would have killed me. They would have killed me and started their war. I had to do it, I had no choice. Don't you understand that?"

"How about that kid? Do you think he understands?"

"I dream about him every night. Every night he comes to me and asks me how I live with myself." He swallowed hard. "Every night I give him a different answer and he says, Hey Lax I'll see you tomorrow."

"Maybe you should tell him the truth."

"And what's the truth Isa?"

"You did it to stop the war, but you didn't do it because you cared about their race war. You did it because you knew it would make you famous."

Lax bristled at her assumption but didn't bother to correct her. She'd never understand what it was like down there. It was a different country with different rules for survival. It hadn't felt like America.

"What does it matter, why I did it? I did it."

"Was it worth it?"

"Was what worth it?'

"Your fifteen minutes? Was it worth watching that boy die?" Her eyes started to blur with tears. "And was it worth having no contact with me for all that time? Not knowing where you were..."

"See the thing is If I'd have come back they would have found you and they would have killed you. And if you died before your time because of what I did..." He couldn't finish. "I had to protect you. I loved you Isa you know I did."

"You didn't answer my question."

"This isn't working is it?" He felt his own eyes start to moisten. "Us getting back together."

"You said that." She looked deeply into his steely blue irises and saw turmoil, but she attacked with sadness, regret and anger present in her own stare, which hurt him more than any words could.

"I told you I wanted to try."

"I have to go, Lax."

"I'm sorry."

She shook her head dismissively, then stood, gathering her coat and purse with a toss of that glossy black hair over her shoulder. He watched her turn and glide her perfect body, in a tight designer dress, to the door. Long legs enhanced by high heels. She always looked perfect and camera ready in case a story broke. Through the window, he observed her flag a cab. She looked back at him once and lowered herself into the taxi.

Loved he'd said loved not love. Was it a slip of the tongue? And the question; he couldn't answer her question about whether it was worth it. Things had been different since they'd tried to resume their relationship. He'd waited until he heard that Sean Gall, the head of the Aryan Brotherhood he infiltrated, had been killed in prison and his organization was in shambles before contacting Isa.

She was wrong. He had cared about the war. Ultimately, he hadn't cared about the notoriety or the prizes. Maybe at first he had, but after being in the trenches and witnessing how insane those people were he felt he had done some good. He grasped at that notion every time an image of the kid flashed in his mind.

It all started when an FBI agent Lax helped out with some information and research contacted him, offering to recommend him for the undercover assignment. When Lax met with the FBI's director of domestic terrorism Tom Bartlett and heard his spiel, he knew it would be the story of his career.

"We need an investigative journalist working counterintelligence to infiltrate the KKK's United Aryan Brotherhood of America Surville Georgia chapter." Bartlett began.

He'd never get another chance like this. Lax shifted in his chair and leaned forward as he listened.

"Since Barack Obama was elected U.S. President in 2008 the number of right-wing extremist groups has reportedly risen fivefold from 149 to 824. These people think that if they overthrow the government they'll make a better world. Their world would be a nightmare. It's not about secession anymore. Sean Gall is organizing. He's got control over Aryan Brotherhood chapters from Alabama to Tennessee. He's gearing up for a full-blown race war. You're gonna help us stop it and then you get to tell your story."

"I'm in. When do we start?"

"Right away. You leave in a few days." The director stopped and looked at the file on the desk in front of him. "Louis Anthony Xavier Morales huh?"

"I'm an eighth Mexican. Yeah. That a problem?" Lax asked.

"No, you pass fine. Just wonder if this will get personal for you."

Lax shrugged. "It's an incredible chance, a huge story."

"If you do this right. Okay Lax, you are now Vic Bishop a law school drop out from NYU wanting to be on the front lines of the race war down in Surville Georgia. You need to get close to Gall, rise in his ranks as quickly as you can. You know, be a fan, a believer. Flatter him and let him know you are a dedicated soldier but that you also have the brains to help the organization. It might be tough but if you play it like that, he's bound to take to you. The guy is an egomaniac. Here's a copy of his book. He's written a full manifesto. Read it on the plane."

Along with Sean Gall's book, he handed Lax an airline ticket, drivers license, and social security card under his new assumed name. "You'll be reporting to Ken." Bartlett gestured to the agent across the room. "He can brief you on some other things like their slang, dress codes and music. Fitting in as much as possible can mean life or death for you Lax. AB tattoos help. They'll make you look like a lifer, not just someone dabbling in their culture."

Lax nodded. "I've done my own research. You're right about tattoos." He shrugged. "I can do that."

"Committed. Good." Agent Bartlett and Lax stood and shook hands. "Good luck son. And be careful, these are serious people. They aren't playing around."

"Neither am I."

Lax knew it would be the story of his career. He didn't realize at the time how much more it would become. Ivy... Jerome… Ivy...He shook the images that the names conjured from his head. He saw them often enough in his nightmares.

He walked the six blocks back to his apartment from the bar. He yanked his necktie tie loose and pulled it off over his head stuffing the expensive silk gift Isa had given him in the pocket of his wool suit jacket. Isa was proud of his Pulitzer, but she couldn't accept what he'd done to earn it. He felt torn. She was the love of his life, or at least he'd thought so before the assignment changed him. She was still the most beautiful creäture God had ever created and he'd done everything to protect her. But now that it was safe to be with her again he couldn't deny that they had grown apart. Too far apart. He was someone else. Like a soldier home from a war, only a fellow soldier would understand what he was going through. He entered his loft apartment and headed straight to the liquor cabinet.

He liked to keep the place clean, but lately the sink full of dirty dishes and the laundry piled up in one corner of his bedroom hadn't even registered on his mental radar. Isa had noticed last time she was here. She was concerned, but he'd blown her off. Since the frequency of the dreams had increased, certain things didn't matter as much as they had before.

He had another drink and decided to go bed. He'd been dying to get out of the monkey suit all night. He stripped down to his boxers then went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Standing before the mirror, the swastika tattoo on his chest stared at him. Why hadn't he gotten a cover up yet? Was it to punish himself? To make sure, he never forgot? A sick reminder. He'd covered the other tattoos, but not this one. He'd left it alone.

He flopped on the bed and mustering what little ambition he had left decided to start work early the next morning. He had emails to answer and a video blog to record. He set the alarm for an hour earlier than usual, but it felt pointless really since he couldn't sleep worth a damn. He would almost doze off then something new to worry about would pop up. His mind raced at night when he tried to sleep. He played the staring game with the alarm clock on and off all night. These days when he did manage to get some sleep, he started dreaming right away. He'd toss and turn in bed all night long and wake up feeling like he hadn't had any rest at all. Why bother?

He looked over at his desk in the shadowy pre-dawn light. He'd won a Pulitzer for writing about it. Was it worth the nightmares and the insomnia? He then glanced at the suit and crumpled tie on the floor by his bed. The clothing represented what she wanted him to be. He was supposed to meet the right people, report on the safe, correct stories and move in the ambitious circles that she did. Isa wanted him to shed his left-wing nutjob label. He sighed at the thought of the makeover she wanted to give him.

He grabbed the television remote from his bedside table and turned on the wall mounted flat screen needing the distraction. He surfed the bullshit for a bit when he thought he saw her. Wait that's... He flipped the channel back. She was on-screen talking about the importance of contrast in tattooing on one of those reality shows about a tattoo shop. She looked the same, except that her chocolate locks were now scarlet and much longer. Her mesmerizing green eyes were unmistakable and that soft, barely there drawl was distinct. She'd tried so hard to lose the accent, he caught himself smiling. He couldn't remember the last time he smiled. It was Ivy. Underneath her image read Poison Ivy, a tattoo artist at Altar. That was a shop near Chinatown. His heart began to race. She was alive. She was here. She was in New York City.


	2. Getting In

_**This chapter is where I state a warning and my Disclaimer: The racial slurs and ideologies expressed by some characters are included for realism. I don't mean to offend anyone and I do not hold or condone any of the beliefs. If you have seen the film, you are familiar, but it is still disturbing.**_

_**Thanks to all who are reading, I appreciate you being here :)**_

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. .. .. .. .. .. ...

"I can't right now." Lax took a drag on his cigarette and watched the traffic. "Look Isa I'll take a later flight." He spoke loudly into his cell phone over a passing police siren. "The kid contacted me. He can wait a couple more hours. I still have the exclusive."

"Lax you are going to blow this. This is your In Cold Blood and you don't seem to care. What could you possibly be doing that is more important than getting to Iowa to talk to this Howards kid? I'm here, there are news crews here from all over the country and you're the only one the kid will talk to. "

"I'll be there tonight. That's all I can say."

She ended the call and he tossed his cigarette to the pavement. It had been a couple of days since he'd seen Ivy on television. Since then a huge story had broken about a high school shooter who'd massacred his classmates. The kid Herman Howards sent a video message to Lax wanting to tell his story on his show. Isa, of course, had called him right away. Work and ambition brought her back into their relationship dance if that's what it was. He had that empty feeling again that it wasn't Lax the person she wanted it but Lax the journalist with exclusive access to this kid. Despite the new story, all he'd been thinking about was Ivy. He needed to see her, he couldn't put it off another minute. Especially in light of Isa's attitude.

When he entered Altar, the kid behind the counter recognized him. "You're that internet dude! Lax for Legalization. Right on man, I love your show. Some of the stuff people send you is crazy, but I love it."

"Thanks, I'm actually looking for Ivy."

"Man who isn't? Her wait list is a year long. The fucking guy from Metallica's flying in Sunday to get work. Ivy is the best."

"I know her, just want to say hi."

"She's working right now...but seeing as it's you and all, go ahead. Third door on the left." The spiky-haired apprentice sent him back to her room. Lax headed down the red hallway mesmerized by the black and white checkerboard floor.

"Hey." He hesitated in the doorway. "You do good cover-ups?"

Ivy froze. That husky, sweet voice. Vic. Lax. Vic. Whatever. She turned her head slowly and met those blue eyes. He winced a bit, unsure of her reaction.

"The best." She answered taking in his appearance. He was wearing a vibrant blue button down shirt that matched his eyes. His hair was longer, lighter dirty blonde. He looked shaggy but clean-cut. That's all she could think of. Distracted, she almost forgot about the client she had been inking. A light tap on her arm made her aware that she needed to finish the tattoo on his back. Dragging the vibrating needle down the customer's flesh she softly drawled. "I'm busy now but..."

Lax leaned back the wall relieved. "I'll wait. Waited two years." He smiled noticing her bare feet. She always tattooed barefoot.

"Can you give me an hour?"

"Yeah. I like your hair like this, red. Its..."

"Something specific you want covered?" She asked interrupting him, self- protectively, her eyes focused on her client.

"Mm hmm. I think you know what it is."

... ... ... ... .. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .

_Two Years Earlier_

Lax splashed water on his face and stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He looked like a scumbag with hair slicked back and unkempt facial whiskers making a scruffy goatee on his chin. He always thought he had mean, beady little eyes and combing the hair off of his forehead enhanced them. He looked sufficiently sketchy. He wore his required work apron but underneath sported rolled up Levi's jeans and ten eye black steel toed Doc Marten boots with red laces. He wasn't sure the Aryans still referenced color coded laces and braces, but he chose red which said he was willing to shed blood for his race. He washed his hands and headed back to his job.

He'd been working at the Surville diner for a week when he saw his chance to approach Sean Gall. He looked like an aging biker, balding but with a full white handlebar mustache. His black tank top revealed a smattering of AB tattoos on his arms neck and chest. He sat with two of his lackeys at one of the outdoor deck tables spouting their usual racist bullshit. His two companions were younger, Lax's age with the same biker crossed with skinhead appearance. Each man had a swastika tattooed on his earlobe. They'd been in every few days giving Lax chance to study them and plan his move.

He wiped down the unoccupied table behind the three men, listening to their conversation.

"So then this little nigger says to me what y'all got to be so proud of?" Dougie Dogg, one of the younger guys, started.

"And you told him? Gall asked.

"I didn't tell him nothin'. I spat on him."

"You spat on him?"

"Right in the face."

"Tell me something," Gall began in an exasperated tone. "How is it you expect me to make you a captain, when, faced with a beautiful opportunity to teach a nigger exactly why the white race is superior, the best you can do is waste your spit on his face? Dumb kids." He shook his head with disgust. "That's what you are. The both of you dumb kids."

Lax began clearing the dishes from their table. "Excuse me Mr. Gall?"

"What?" He barked impatiently.

"I'm sorry to bother you. I've just been waiting a long time to meet you and figured I wouldn't get a better chance than now."

"Why you want to meet me Yankee?"

"I read your book. I think you might just be a prophet."

"Is that so? Well, what can I do for you son?"

Lax reached into his back pocket for the book and the three men at the table reached for their weapons in knee-jerk reaction. When Gall saw the book, he put his hand up "Whoa okay. You just don't make a move like that boy..."

"Hoping you'd sign it for me.'

Gall chuckled."Well, lookee here boys, I'm a celebrity." After scribbling his autograph, Gall asked, "Yankee like you down here has to be for more than gettin' book signed. What else do you want son?"

"I don't really know. I just moved here from New York."

"New York City?" Gall over emphasized the three words.

"Guilty as charged."

"Boy, you're a long way from home. What were you doing in New York City?"

"I went to NYU, for law."

Gall glanced at Doug and Jimmy Carl, known as JC while he said "Well you're not a dumb kid, are you?"

"No, sir. I'm not a dumb kid." Lax asserted seriously looking Gall in the eye.

"What is it about my book that made you come down here to meet me son?" Lax saw Gall's eyes fall on to the outline of the SS bolts tattooed on his right forearm, the only one he'd managed to get done before arriving in Surville. Lax took a deep breath. He'd rehearsed the lines a million times but now the he was actually talking to Gall his heart raced with a surge of adrenaline. "It made me realize I don't need to feel ashamed of being white. In New York, how should I put it? My neighborhood was, uh, colorful."

"You ever look up the New York chapter of the brothers? "

Lax shook his head. "Wanted to but where I lived it was bad enough to have my skin shining at night while I walked home. If any of those...people had found out I was involved in something like that….well I wouldn't be standing here now."

"See! " Gall looked at JC and Doug. "This is what I'm talking about. A boy is made to feel inferior in his own damn neighborhood for no other reason than the color of his skin. And they call us racists." He shook his head the stared seriously at Lax. "Well, you've come to the right place What's your name boy?"

"Vic Bishop."

"Well okay, Vic. Where are you staying?"

"Over at the Motel 6."

"Well, I think we can find somethin' a little nicer. Why don't you bunk with us for a while?"

"That sounds real good Mr. Gall."

Lax could feel the resentful stares of Doug and JC. Winning over Gall was just the beginning. He glanced at the men and gave a small nod. Neither reacted.

"Welcome to Georgia Vic. I think you're gonna like it here."

... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

The best way Lax could describe the main room of the Gall's warehouse headquarters was if the interior designer from Applebee's was hired by a Neo-Nazi, who needed an interior decorator to decorate his romper room. There were Confederate and Nazi memorabilia everywhere like framed pictures of famed segregationists and reproduction photos of lynching parties mounted on the walls. There were other memorabilia dedicated to the Nazi regime as well.

"It's a beauty, isn't it?" Gall announced, breaking Lax out of his reverie. "The flag is an actual flag that was hanging in the Madison Square Garden during the night Hitler gave a speech. It's real valuable." He gestured to the faded red banner with a swastika at its center.

This place would give Bull Conner a woody, Lax thought. However, his disgust was mixed with anticipation and a sense of accomplishment. He was getting in.

Gall shouted over the conversations and music for attention in the crowded main room. When he had silence, he announced. "All right boys, listen up. This is Vic. He's the newest member of the UABA, SS. Say it boys."

"United Aryan Brothers of America, Surville Section!" Came the unanimous shout.

Lax looked around recognizing the various mixes of hate groups Gall managed to pull together. He noted members of the Confederate Hammerskins, a regional chapter of Hammerskin Nation centered around members in the Acworth area. Like many Hammerskin chapters, much of their activity focused on white power music. They were responsible for the 'partying'. He recognized insignia of the American Skins on a couple of other guys he was being introduced to. They all had shaved heads and were wearing black steel toed boots and bomber jackets with swastikas and Confederate flags.

Lax was excited, he couldn't help himself. This was the gathering place for all the major hate groups in Georgia. And it was home to Gall's UABA chapter. He was in.

"I want you boys to welcome Vic. Vic, you are answering the Call to the Aryan Nations. We will create a national, racial state. We must secure the existence of our people and a future for white children. We'll have it at whatever price is necessary. Just as our forefathers purchased their freedom in blood so will we...we will have to kill the bastards!"

The room erupted in cheers, whoops and hollers. Lax nodded and looked around. He he gave a holler of his own. The discomfort started to fade as his ambition rose. Doug and JC glanced at each other, not thrilled with Gall's new favorite "son".

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

"That was awesome man, shit like that doesn't happen in New York." Lax said as the black kid panicked and ran past him and his three companions.

"Fuck that noise Vic! Why didn't you stop him?" Doug asked.

"He was scared shitless. That's how we win this war. You get into their head. Save your knuckles for when it counts." Lax explained.

Doug tried to stare Vic down grimacing with disgust, Vic locked eyes with him. Doug spit to the side and looked past him. This guy talked too much. Yeah, all talk no action. He was a nigger lover being treated like a damn guest of honor. "C'mon" he ordered. The three men continued down main street.

"Hey baby what's up?" JC called out to a woman getting into a late model black Buick covered in bumper stickers. She put her grocery bags on the passenger seat, then looked back and scowled at his whistling cat call.

"She your girl or something?" Lax asked unable to take his eyes off of her. She had on denim cut off shorts, knee-high engineer boots and a gray tank top. Her dark brown hair was chin length with long side swept bangs. Her arms were sleeved with colorful tattoos.

"In his dreams!" Doug laughed. "Been trying to get into Ivy's pants since high school. She still be shutting you down Jimmy Carl."

As if on cue Ivy gave JC the middle finger. She hoped they'd just move on. Trouble, all of Sean Gall's group were trouble. Suddenly she noticed a guy she hadn't seen before. He was staring at her and even at the distance she felt a driving heat from his eyes. He wasn't from around here. He was dressed like the rest of the knuckleheads, jeans rolled up over Doc Marten boots, t-shirt, suspenders and a flannel shirt tied around his hips. But he looked...intelligent? It felt weird to think that, but that's all that came to mind when she saw his face. He hung back a little, obviously a new recruit.

"Shut the fuck up Doug. Don't know what the fuck you're talking about." JC shot back.

"Who is she?" Lax asked.

"Ivy Pierce and she does damn good tattoos for a chick. And she don't have a problem, with uh, subject matter." JC answered complimenting her.

"She in the movement? Doesn't look like a boot girl or..."

"Hell no. She's a stuck up nigger loving bitch. Just like her old man." Doug explained. "But, Sean's got something on her, so she does what we want, as far as ink goes."

Something on her? Lax was curious, wondering what it was.

"Never forget she ain't a believer though." Doug finalized, staring at JC. "So you could fuck the dumb bitch but not marry her."

JC's s face reddened and they moved on, heading to the warehouse. Lax looked back over his shoulder watching Ivy get in her car. He needed more tattoos.


	3. Opposite Sides

_New York City present-day_

"Thanks," Ivy said taking the coffee from Lax. While she finished with her client, he had gone out on a caffeine run, figuring she could use the energy to work on his cover up tattoo.

"Cappuccino. With nutmeg."

"You remembered." She felt the warmth of the beverage through its white paper cup as she held it in both hands. She stared at the green logo of the coffee shop on its side so as not to get caught up in Lax's eyes. She didn't linger on the sweetness of his gesture.

"You have any idea of what you want for the cover up?"

He tilted his head. "You choose. You're the expert."

She gestured to his shirt with a nod of her head. Lax placed his Starbucks cup on the table next to her reference books and candles. He unbuttoned his shirt and after removing it he held it in his hand. She sipped her coffee studying the swastika she'd inked on his chest over two years before. Lax's stomach tightened as she enveloped him in her deep, languid gaze. He felt her eyes as powerfully as her fingers when she approached and gently ran the tips over the black symbol of hate. He immediately felt her familiar ethereal presence, the one that drew him to her the first time he'd seen her down in Georgia. His hand moved as if on its own when he cupped her chin in his palm and raised her gaze to his own. She grasped his wrist and pulled her face away. "Don't."

"Ivy. I've missed you."

"I…please Vic." She caught herself. "Lax." Her voice was calm and steady. "You left a shitstorm behind, you know. You ruined us."

… … … … … … … … … .. .. .. .. .. … .. … .. … … … .. … … …... .. .. ... ... ... ... .. ... .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Georgia: 2 years earlier

Ivy had been back in Surville for two months and it already felt like she'd never left. Time stood still in the small divided town where she was born. The main street had its charm, mom and pop shops and an old RC Cola sign from the sixties still hung over the general store across from a grassy square with a Gazebo and benches. The picturesque southern charm and tolerance. Across the bridge was the run down sprawl of tar paper shacks, neglected farmhouses side by side with a trailer park and just beyond that, a small warehouse district teeming with hate and prejudice.

"Daddy? Daddy you home? I got your Moxie." Ivy called out pulling the screen door shut behind her with her foot. She brought two paper bags full of groceries into the kitchen of her childhood home through the back door. The kitchen was large and sunny. She passed the vintage red marbled Formica-topped table where she had done hours of homework growing up. The entire house was overrun with memories. It had been such an easy decision to leave. Now she struggled with feeling like a failure. Like she'd gone backward.

She instinctively made a sour face when she took the six-pack of soda from the bag and placed it on the counter. Nasty tasting stuff but her father practically lived on it. Daddy needed her home now after his second heart attack. Aunt Jo had to go back to Tennessee so Ivy took a leave from her studies at the Pratt Inst in NYC to help her dad out. He was semi-retired sociology and literature professor at the local university. Ivy's mother died during her birth so it had always been just the two of them; now she was twenty-eight years old and it was that way again. After putting away the rest of the groceries, she headed down the hallway to her father's study.

"Did you eat lunch? I can fix you something."

"No, no I'm fine." Her father was at his desk focused on grading papers.

"I'm heading to work soon. But there is dinner to heat up later when you're ready."

He looked up and adjusted his wire-framed glasses. "Thanks, Ivy you're taking too good care of me."

"You're welcome daddy." Ivy leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek.

... ... .. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... ... ... ... ... ..

Shortly after moving back home she began working at Oliver Colby's tattoo shop on Surville's town line. She'd hung out there as a teenager and apprenticed with Oliver before she decided to go to art school. Now that she was home he was happy to have her working in the shop. He'd been like another dad to her in many ways. When she was a rebellious teen, he gave her the direction she needed with drawing and tattooing. Oliver's shop had started out like many other roadside parlors mostly frequented by bikers and drunken mistakes but over the years as tattoos became more mainstream, his clientele had expanded as had his artists. The aging tattooist who always had a toothpick between his teeth and critique on his tongue was a tough but fair teacher. Ivy knew she'd never have been able to turn her raw talent into such an art without him. Oliver hadn't changed over the years and Ivy was glad for that. One thing that had changed in Surville, however, was the size and strength of Sean Gall's Aryan Brotherhood. He'd started the group out of his house when Ivy was a kid. One of the most well-known white supremacists in Georgia, Gall was also chicken hawk who preyed on sad, lonely, poverty-stricken young people in order to build his white-power army. He was on the opposite end of the spectrum from a guy like Oliver. Oliver wanted to help the local kids while Gall wanted to use them. There was a lot of talk of Hitler and the race war, but mostly what Gall and his ragtag kids did was a lot of ranting on street corners and getting drunk at backyard barbecues. Ivy watched many of the kids she grew up with were drawn into the big, bad Ku Klux Klan. Like Doug and JC. She'd known them since grade school. In fact, JC had given her a Valentine when they were in the second grade. She always remembered what a sweet kid he had been until his father died when they were in junior high. That's when he started going around Gall's place and talking about white power bullshit. Doug was always a psycho. They'd been basically just a racist version of Fagin and his scofflaw boys. However in the years since she'd left for art school in New York, Gall had written and published own manifesto and occupied a warehouse dedicated to offices, living space and a meeting hall for the ever-growing organization. It appeared Gall was getting serious. He and Ivy's father had always been at odds and had frequent run-ins. Professor Harlan Pierce was a man of integrity and never missed an opportunity to speak out. Gall considered Professor Pierce, an enemy. The brotherhood had threatened to burn down the Pierce's house more times than Ivy could count. The town was divided. Half he folks actually sided with Gall on the race issue while other half including Ivy and her dad were deathly against it. But the two sides had lived together for as long as Ivy could remember. Strange bedfellows indeed.

… … … … .. .. .. .. .. .. .. … … … … … … .. … … … … … .. . .

Ivy had just finished her last client of the day and was placing her needles in the autoclave when she heard a commotion in the lobby. She headed out and saw her co-worker Jesse looking bent out of shape. He was arguing with that new guy she'd seen hanging with JC and Sean's boys.

"What's up?" She asked casually walking behind the counter beside Jesse.

"This guy wants a fucking swastika tattoo and I told him we don't serve scumbag racists, so he says he's gonna kick my head in."

"I'll do the tattoo," Ivy said staring at the new guy as Jesse scowled at her. "You got the money?" she asked.

He stood arms across his chest thumbs hooked under his armpits and nodded. "Yeah, I have money. I heard this was the place to come."

Ivy was surprised that he was soft spoken and articulate. He was obviously a northerner with no trace of a drawl. Sean's boys were all backwoods boneheads. Who was this guy? She nodded back at him.

"Ollie doesn't like it Ivy, doesn't want these guys in here."

"Well, Ollie's gone for the day isn't he? And who'd tell him, you?" She knew Jesse wouldn't rat her out. "They're just fucking symbols. Just cause I tattoo them doesn't mean I believe in what they stand for. Besides, its money dude."

Jesse shook his head. "That's so hypocritical Ivy. I don't get how you can think that way."

"I know you don't." She motioned for the guy to follow her back to her room. Lax was struck by her steady gaze and decisive, calm manner.

Ivy felt the new guy walking behind her, his eyes on her back. The hairs on her neck stood up. She told herself to relax and stop imagining things. When she turned around her eyes met his and she thought he could read her mind, see through her. He sat on her tattoo chair and watched her open her laptop on the small counter top among small plastic bottles of ink.

"That your cat?" He asked noticing her screen saver.

"Yeah, Dinah. You like cats?"

"Sure, who doesn't like cats."

Neo-Nazi racist shitheads usually. Ivy thought, but just nodded. This guy was different.

"A swastika huh?" She asked pulling up images on the screen. "Go big or go home. I'll just print one out and trace it. Where you putting it?"

He pulled his black sleeveless T-shirt up off over his head and pointed to the left side of his chest. Ivy was a professional, she tattooed men all the time on various parts of their bodies, but something about him made her stare a little longer than usual. She couldn't take her eyes off of his solid shoulders and muscular arms. He wasn't the body builder type, but he obviously did some working out with weights. A lot of the knuckleheads did.

"Be right back." She finally pulled her glance away from his chest. "Meantime, shave it for me." She handed Lax a disposable razor so he could make sure the area was free of hair that would interfere with the needle.

He nodded as she headed to the copier in the hallway. After running the razor over his left pec a few times, he lay back on the tattoo chair and crossed his arms behind his head. Her room was small. Just the chair and a stool beside it, a bench with drawers for ink and tattoo machines. His black Docs looked huge propped up on the chair's footrest. Lax found her energy comforting. Maybe it was just a relief to get away from Gall's guys but something about her made him feel at ease. She was down to earth and unpretentious in low-slung faded blue jeans and a simple, fitting gray tank top with a black bra peeking out underneath. Her nondescript clothing didn't clash with or take away from the many elaborate colorful tattoos that sleeved her arms. He felt her enter the room.

Ivy observed his relaxed form before going over to the sliding drawers for her equipment. She swiveled her chair toward him and pulled on her black latex gloves. Lax noticed she kept taking tiny glances at him like she couldn't resist. Too fucking cute. He saw her flick her eyes across his tattooed arm and then she half-turned to glance at his crotch before blushing pink on her fair cheeks. She knocked her hand noisily on the container she was trying to open. At that moment, "Nazi Punks Fuck Off" by the Dead Kennedy's came blasting out of the shops sound system. "Jesse has strong beliefs," Ivy explained.

"Yeah, that Vegan tattoo across his neck told me." Lax answered.

She smiled and he realized how pretty she was. Not much makeup, natural looking. Her skin was fair with a small smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her dark shiny, side swept bangs kept falling over one of her large, deep espresso colored eyes.

"So really, don't you feel like a hypocrite?" He asked. "Doing this."

"No." She answered firmly.

"You're tattooing a Nazi symbol on me and I take it you don't share the beliefs."

"I tattoo Jesus and Mary and Buddha and all kinds of religious icons and symbols on people every day and I don't believe in any of that. It's just art. It's all symbols. Besides the swastika was taken by Hitler and corrupted in 1932. The word swastika comes from the Sanskrit word that literally means "it is good." It is a common practice for Hindus to draw swastika symbols on the doors and entrances to their houses during festivals as an invitation to goddess Lakshmi. It was also a symbol of good luck in some western cultures. All before Hitler got his hands on it. "

Lax shrugged. "Thanks for the history lesson, but the majority of the world still sees it as a symbol of white superiority. No one thinks about that original meaning. Hell, I don't."

"I don't think of it having that power. I don't hold much stock in any of the symbolic bullshit. It's what's inside. The belief and hatred are inside a person not in a symbol they hide behind. So no it doesn't bother me and I'm not a hypocrite."

"Just seems like it ought to be more complicated for you. I do have those beliefs, symbol or not. You are helping me to represent them. "

"Look, I am selling you a product okay? This tattoo, what you choose to do with it is up to you. Once it's on you and you've paid it's out of my hands. Gun manufacturers make pistols. The person who buys it chooses to kill someone, not the maker of the gun."

"You're simplifying it." Lax sighed. He loved a good argument.

"You know most of the Aryans around here can't put a sentence together worth a damn and you're wanting to debate me about racist symbols while having me tattoo one on you?"

"Yeah."

"Who the hell are you?"

"Vic Bishop. I'm from New York. Went to law school, but dropped out to come down here and meet Sean Gall." He paused. "You?"

"I'm Ivy Pierce. I lived in New York for a while myself. Went to Pratt Institute of Art. Had to come home though, to take care of my dad."

"Art school girl huh?" Lax commented slowly with a small smile. "JC told me to come here ask for you." He had one of those raspy panty dropping voices that made Ivy's head fuzzy.

She cleared her mind and quickly responded "JC…that guy's a pain in my ass, all right, known him since kindergarten. All those guys. This is a small town Vic. There are two sides."

"What you're saying is we are on opposite sides. You and me."

"Yeah." She needed to keep reminding herself of that fact. "You ready for this?"

He nodded. "As I'll ever be.'

She leaned in to apply the stencil. Her eyes were so open and inviting as he stared up at them. When she placed her gloved fingers on his smooth, warm skin, she flicked her gaze back down at his chest. Electricity ran through Ivy as she placed the stencil over his left pec. She pressed with gentle firmness and ran her palms over the thin sheet to insure the imprint. He felt a tingling in his spine and a sudden rush of blood to his cock. She seemed almost loving as she stroked her fingers across his skin and stared down, absorbed in the purple stencil of the tattoo on his firm pectoral muscle. He could feel the thrill despite her gloves as warmth spread from her fingers through his body. Lax had been tattooed many times in the past by women and had never been aroused like this. He had it bad for this girl and didn't even know her. He had to get back in character. He felt Lax taking over and that was dangerous. Then he thought of Isa and a pang of guilt stabbed his chest. It was over; he ended it before he came to Georgia. No reason for guilt. He wasn't with anyone. Vic was single, he rationalized.

"Just relax," Ivy said leaning over him, "I'm going to try to make this as comfortable for you as possible." Was that a shudder of desire through his body? She held up a mirror for him to check the placement. He cleared his throat and nodded. "Yeah looks great." Ivy kicked off her boots and socks. She settled down on the stool at the left side of his chest and leaned over to rest her elbow across his collarbone. He could feel her body trembling. The hitch in her breath became more obvious the closer she leaned in or maybe he was making her nervous? Her arm was warm against him. He felt like his body was filling with heat, spreading from the places she touched. He cock started twitching. Right now he could just grab her face and kiss her, she was that close. Vic could have his way with her right here in this tiny room. Vic probably would...the thought invaded Lax's mind.

Ivy was completely absorbed in his body. She felt like she was floating in the eye of a tornado. Once she began the outline, Lax focused on the stinging pain and sharp buzzing sound of her machine as she worked, her bare foot giving the pedal just enough pressure. Her breathing was slow and steady, her eyes were focused in deep concentration. It was so hot to feel worshiped like this, it had his belly coiling and spine-tingling. He could feel sweat forming on his back where it touched the vinyl of the chair. Each time she stopped to wipe down the tattoo with alcohol to measure the progression, he noticed her hands tremble as she ran them over his skin proving she wasn't as cool and professional as she acted. Every brush of her fingers was going straight to his cock. Lax smelled peppermint on her breath every time she exhaled and the scent of jasmine mixed with the patent odor of being tattooed: a/d ointment, rubbing alcohol, metallic blood mixed with ink and hot tender flesh being marked. Ivy's face was intent as she worked. Something about being that close to her and having her so focused on him with that constant pain pushing his endorphins' continued to turn him on. The pain of the needle increased his arousal. He knew the brain's response to pain is similar to sexual arousal and that it's very common to feel this way. It's the adrenaline. However, this had never happened to him during a tattoo before. He could feel her breath against his neck as she leaned over his chest to reach an outer section of the tattoo.

"So you're really one of them, Sean's guys? Really?" She asked, breaking the hypnotic silence that had enveloped them around the buzzing needle. Both seemed relieved at the break in the sexual tension.

"You mean, I'm a racist homophobe hanging with a bunch of guys waiting outside to lynch somebody? That's what you think?" Lax responded channeling Vic. He couldn't let his girl shake him. It didn't matter who he was dealing with if any off the brotherhood had even an inkling he wasn't who he said he was, he'd be dead.

"Well, yeah. The only guys around here who want the ink you do are with Brotherhood. I saw you with them yesterday. Moose, JC, and Doug. It's just you seem …different."

"How so?" He squinted at her.

Ivy went on "I grew up here. I know most of these guys. Doug and JC went to grade school with me. When they got involved with Sean Gall they changed and all they do is spout off racist idealist bullshit. And I know what they do, what you do." She had sounded ominous before she paused. "You, just don't seem the type. You look the type but...I don't know, you just…seem too smart. And I haven't heard you say the N word once. With those guys, it's every other word."

Lax felt himself panic for a minute. He was losing it, he needed to go full on Vic. "Just because I'm from NY and went to college you think I can't be proud of my race? I'm down here to be on the front lines. There's a war about to start. I came to fight to beside Gall."

"I just think you…maybe you're new, don't know what you're getting into? "

"Damn it Ivy. It's Ivy, right? Don't you care about your country? What's happening? When you take a German Shepherd and mix him with a Golden Retriever, you have a worthless animal that nobody wants and that isn't worth anything if you're trying to breed him or sell him. These degenerates that allow their children to race mix and that sort of thing, they're destroying our bloodline. They are taking what's ours."

"Hold it right there. Look, I'm doing your tattoo it doesn't mean I want to hear your fucked up beliefs. That's what they are you know."

"You're the one that's fucked up if you're not upset by that."

"Seriously? You really…" she shook her head. She was wrong about him. "That's backward, ignorant thinking..."

"Fuck what you think. Finish the damn tattoo." He growled waving his arm for emphasis. "You are a hypocrite doing this. And saying it's for the money makes you a whore too."

"True colors, huh? Tattoos' done." Ivy lifted the needle and the buzzing ceased. She stood.

"You only finished the outline."

"Well, thanks to you setting me straight, I suddenly developed a conscience. And keep your damn money. I'm an artist, not a whore. Got that? An artist. " She turned her back and began cleaning up her work area. Again she felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. She knew his eyes were boring into her.

Lax couldn't help the small smile forming on his lips. He had retained his character and he liked seeing her feisty.

"I have to clean you up." She glanced over his body as he stood. It was only then he realized he'd totally rocked up. He glanced down at his crotch and saw his cock was clearly outlined in his tight jeans, bulging to the left and pushing against the fabric so it molded to the shape. She was staring and quickly moved her eyes to his fresh tattoo. She wiped it down and applied A and D ointment then put a temporary bandage over the swastika.

"Do I have to go over aftercare with you?" Her voice was impatient.

"No." He answered pulling his t-shirt over his head.

"Know what? I take it back. You're just like them. Vic."

"Told you. Like you said, we are on opposite sides."

"Best we don't forget that."

Lax nodded and turned to leave. She was absolutely right and there was no way in hell he was getting involved with a woman during this. He chalked the whole arousal tattoo experience up to the fact that he hadn't gotten laid in months. That's all it was, over stimulation. He needed his head on straight. Lax would steer clear of Ivy. But what about Vic? He rubbed his eyes and grunted, feeling like he had split personalities. This was life or death.

When he left, Ivy felt ashamed, something she rarely allowed her self to experience. Maybe she had been a hypocrite all this time and it took a racist asshole to point it out. She also felt foolish to have been wrong about him and confused at getting aroused. She noticed her panties were damp. "Shit. " She muttered. It had been way too long since she'd had sex, but still, she never felt that way when she tattooed a guy.

"He's an ass and he's one of them." She said aloud as she headed out front. "See you tomorrow Jesse." She tossed her bag over her shoulder heading to the door.

"Wait that guy left this for you. Said to make sure you got it." He handed her one hundred dollars in twenties. "Racist shit for brains but a big tipper huh? Maybe he'll be back?"

"Doubt it." She said seriously, folding the bills into her pocket. She had no intention of keeping his money after his whore remark.


	4. Honest When You're Telling Lies

_***Once again I state a warning and my Disclaimer: The racial slurs and ideologies expressed by some characters are included for realism. I don't mean to offend anyone and I do not hold or condone any of the beliefs. If you have seen the film, you are familiar, but it is still disturbing.**_

_**As always thanks to all who are reading, I appreciate you being here :)**_

... .. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... ... .. .

The humid night enveloped Lax as he headed outside immediately feeling the contrast between the air-conditioned tattoo shop. The sun had set but only relieved the heat a bit and the moist and heavy air clung to him. He walked the half mile back to the warehouse where he was staying with other members of the brotherhood. He moved slow noticing fireflies and the crickets that seemed too loud. He tried to focus on the sore, prickling burn the new tattoo was giving his chest wanting it to take feeling away from his dick. He was still hard and uncomfortable against his jeans from Ivy's arousal.

He entered the main floor of the warehouse to find a small group of guys sitting on ratty couches and armchairs shooting the shit and drinking beer. Moose, one of the skinheads, began a drunken sing a long:

"My eyes have seen the glory of the trampling at the zoo, we washed our hands in niggers blood and all the mongrels too. We're taking down the Zog machine jew by jew by jew, the white man marches on." *

There were some whoops and hollers as Lax passed by.

"Hey, Vic where you going? The party's here!"

"I'm beat, man."

"Yeah you always say that. What, you too good to hang out with us?" Doug, of course, got that jab in. "Yankee motherfucker?" He laughed, but his tone was not joking.

"Fuck no, just beat." Lax paused a minute then headed toward a vacant armchair. "Gimme a beer."

"You get that ink today?" JC asked. "Ivy take care of you?'

"Yeah, yeah." Lax answered settling into the dirty cushions. His cock twitched at the mention of her name. He grimaced. He'd finally rid himself of the erection. "She was great.' He pulled up his t-shirt and removed the bandage showing off the swastika.

Moose stood up unsteady on his feet and gave the Heil Hitler gesture. He fell back to the couch and started singing again, slurring and out of tune. "You know it...cause I show it like a barn-yard rooster I crow it! And the NAACP would sure like to get a-hold of nigger-hatin' me! You gotta be black to get a welfare check! And I'm broke...no joke I ain't got a nickel for a coke!" And I ain't black, you see so Uncle Sam won't help poor nigger-hatin' me.*

Lax felt sick inside, nausea bubbled up into his throat but he laughed and played along. He took a long pull on his beer. It was life or death.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... ... ...

Finally when most of the other guys had passed out, Lax headed to his room but was stopped by Gall, who spotted him passing by his open office door. He was at his desk pouring over some documents.

"Vic, come here son."

Lax joined him, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest thumbs hooked.

"You know that the average citizen, now he wishes and hopes that tall he American neo-nazis are rednecks with beer bellies and tattoos that barely escaped high school." He paused, rubbing his chin. "Maybe some be…but you...you're proof that ain't always the case, ain't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"I been doing some reading. Today, according to the latest U.S. census, only twenty-three percent of the American population under the age of eighteen is white. Already, four U.S. states are majority non-white, and ten percent of all counties in America are mostly non-white. World-wide, white women of child-bearing age form only three percent of the earth's population. Do these facts disturb you? They should."

"Hell yeah. I'm sick of being blamed for all the world's problems just cause I'm white. Right now America has an estimated twenty million illegal aliens that invaded our country so now basically three percent of the population, control eighty-five percent of the nation's wealth and jobs because they want a cheap, slave-like workforce where decent wages and benefits will be a thing of the past. All in the name of selfishness and greed. Every year, our white children's expected lifestyle is declining compared to the earlier generations. By 2025, we're looking at white America being a total minority in a nation that was once their birthright."

Gall's eyes lit up. "You know something boy, I just might need a new captain around here."

If this was a test, Lax had passed.

Lax nodded. I'd be honored sir."

"I'll be thinking on it.'

... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... ... ... ... .. ... .. ... .. ... .. ..

Lax and been given the room of a member now serving a sentence in prison. He paced, looking at the Confederate flag on one wall and the swastika banner on the other interspersed with flyers for white power music festivals taped up on the dirty plaster left by its former resident. Lax was again trying to get ivy off of his mind, but every time she started to fade he'd think of her hands on his chest and his cock would stir again. He laid down on the mattress on the floor that served as his bed. The digital clock read 12:30 am. He was wide awake. The place reminded him of an artist's loft he'd lived in during college. The rooms had dividing walls, but no doors so there was limited privacy. Fuck it. Lax headed to the bathroom down the hall. He locked the door behind him and an anticipatory feeling took over as he remembered her hands lightly stroking and teasing his chest, her breath on his nipple, then her mouth. He unbuckled his belt with shaky hands and began to unzip his pants when his semi-hard cock nearly jumped out. Lax might not do this, let this girl get to him, but Vic would he rationalized as his cold hands grabbed onto to his warm swollen dick.

A vision of Ivy kneeling before him runs through his mind. Droplets of pre-cum leak from the tip of his cock as she opens her mouth. Muffled moans of "mmmm" are heard as she takes him in, tasting him. His cock is getting harder as she slowly moves her warm, moist lips and tongue around his sensitive head and shaft. Her small, soft fingers run down his cock followed by her wet mouth, taking in every inch of him. His breathing becomes staggered, eyes squeeze shut and toes clench in his boots. Releasing him from her mouth, she continues to stroke his cock as she flicks her tongue around his balls sending jolts of electricity through his body. He can barely take anymore so he grabs her by her hair, pulls her up, and throws her against the wall. She has done exactly what she intended to do: teased him to the point where he becomes something more animal, more primal. He rips her soaked panties off and runs his calloused fingers down her hips, over her soft thighs and slowly teases his way to her shaved pussy. He can feel the heat radiating off her as he slowly twirls and teases her clit. He wants so badly to taste her. He takes two fingers and opens her lips, sliding one finger inside her hot, wet pussy. With a slight grin, he shoves her face first against the wall before slowly pushing his throbbing cock inside her.

"They both moan as they feel each other. Slowly he slides in and out of her pussy while her smooth, soft ass bounces against his hips.

"Faster," she moans, "harder.."

The sound of their bodies colliding echoes in the bathroom as they become one and begin to fuck each other hungrily.

"Don't stop baby, harder.." She pants as her knees lock and her muscles tighten. He begins to rub her swollen clit faster.

"Right there, uh, right there... fuck Lax you're so good!"

"Vic, call me Vic." He drives his cock into her more forcefully with each thrust. She's close and he knows it. He grabs her by her hair and pulls her head back toward him, exposing her throat. She lets out a loud moan as he bites the back of her neck. The warm feel of his mouth and strength of his jaw send her over the edge. As her legs start to quiver, he can feel her pussy clench and her juices run down his cock and over his balls. She turns toward him and kisses him deeply for what seems like forever. She slowly drops to her knees, taking his cock into her hands and begins to lick tasting herself on him.

"Mmm," she moans as she engulfs him. Her eyes never leave his face. He takes his cock from her mouth, and, already slick with her spit, he begins to jerk off.

Looking up at him, she urges him on. "I wanna taste you Lax, I want you to come for me."

"Its Vic, damn it, you can't know about me...they'll kill us..." he manages to grunt. He starts off slowly, pumping his hand over his cock but speeds up knowing she's watching.

"Please Lax, I want it." She begs.

"Fuck...you stupid girl..." His cock begins to fill up and it now feels bigger than it ever has. "You'll get us killed you know that?" He moans, feeling his dick pulse along with his rapid heartbeat. Faster and harder, there is no stopping not that he wants to. It's coming and he strokes quickly as it builds and he can feel the milky white come surging. The rush of fluid escapes as the orgasm overwhelms him. It's as if there is nothing else in the world, just the pleasure. He grabs the back of her head which forces her mouth open as he slows his stroking to a mere tease and the come begins to drip out of his cock. Bigger drops hit her tongue and run out of her mouth onto he breasts. More spurts follow as the sight of her licking and swallowing his come turns him on like nothing else.

As he finishes, she takes his cock once again into her mouth and cleans every inch of him. Slowly tasting and savoring everything. His whole body is tight and tense. He has never come that hard before. When he opens his eyes and takes a breath, he realizes that it was all a dream. He has just jerked off at the thought of being with her. If she does that to him when she isn't there, what would it be like if she were…He leaned back against the wall breathing heavily. No, can't happen. I can't risk her finding out...can't get close... she can't know about me...they'll kill us both...

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... .

'Infomercial, another infomercial, another infomercial, another one..."

The pad of Ivy's right thumb was starting to get numb from constantly being pressed against the rubber 'up arrow' button on the remote control. "A thousand channels and nothing on." She murmured.

It was 12:34 in the morning and Ivy had been channel surfing since getting home from work. Basically after moving back home her nights consisted of making dinner for her father, maybe a game of Scrabble or talking with him for a little while then after he was asleep, TV and ice cream. When she'd been at school in New York city, she had much more of a social life. Surville was an old tired town. She was feeling more like a failure every day and that she was wasting her life. She loved her father, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was drowning in quicksand, in the sinkhole of her dead-end hometown.

She eventually came across a cable channel that aired old black-and-white movies. She tried to concentrate on Bette Davis on screen, but Vic kept invading her thoughts. Not just his attitude but the electricity she felt when she touched him, the trembling he caused in her thighs, the wetness he produced in her panties. As pissed off as she'd been at him, it was also the most alive she'd felt since moving back home. She sighed. It was wrong. There was a line she'd respected her whole life. The Us and Them structure of Surville. Crossing the line was wrong, it was dirty. He was a dirty, racist boot boy and she couldn't go there. She began to rub her thighs together without realizing she was desperate for the friction as the sweet ache began low in her belly. He was dangerous…but she wanted to pull those braces off his shoulders and slide her hands under his t-shirt, tracing the tattoo she'd just give him.

"Do you like it?" Ivy hears him ask. She can't see him, the room is too dark, but she can definitely feel him. She feels Vic's warm, hard body pressed against her bare one. His humid breath fans her face.

"Yes," She whispers.

"Do you want me to keep going?"

"Yes," She hears herself say, her voice trembling as if she were in a state of urgency. She caught a brief glimpse of what he was actually doing. It was as if she were watching from above. His hand caressed her inner thigh and his strong warm fingers were teasing her slit as his thumb slowly drew circles on her clit. There was a brief glimpse of his furrowed brow and his cobalt eyes as he stared at her. A second after she saw that wonderful image, she felt her body ignite with pleasure as if it had finally caught on to what was happening. A loud moan escaped and she felt his lips cover her own, swallowing the rest of her noises of pleasure while his fingers continued their exploration.

"Do you want me to go faster?" he asks, removing his lips from hers.

Ivy hears her breath escape in quick, light pants as his thumb picks up speed and adds pressure.

"More," She begs.

"You want more?"

"Yes." She moans.

"What do you want more of?"

"Please," She whimpered. "I can't say."

"Tell me."

"Oh God," she moaned into one of the couch cushions. She woke mid orgasm, laying face down on the couch riding out her spasms with her pelvis slightly raised, her fingers rubbing her pussy, as the final waves of the dream-induced climax subsided.

"Mmmm," she groaned feeling dazed. Damn, that shit felt good, she thought as her hips pressed back down on the couch. She rolled onto her back and gazed up at the ceiling realizing that she had fallen asleep while watching the movie, which led to the sex dream about Vic. Still feeling tiny aftershocks of her orgasm, his face flashed in her mind.

"Vic." She sighed, with a low whisper.

Her hands left her hips and went on their own journey. They found their way to the thin spaghetti straps of her slip and she pushed them off of her shoulders and pulled the garment down a little to free her breasts. She imagined that her fingertips were Vic's. He was playing with her nipples and his other hand that was trailing down to her seeping, aching pussy. As her arousal began to spike to a higher level, she closed her eyes and flashed back to her dream but the fantasy transformed into another one. In her mind's eye, Ivy wasn't surrounded by the darkness anymore, with the only comfort being the sound of Vic's voice. Instead, Vic and she were in her bedroom, on her queen-sized antique iron framed bed. Her face was turned halfway buried in a pillow. Vic was lying on top, his upper body hovering over hers and she felt his eyes staring as strongly as she felt every inch of his dick, as he thrust it and out of her pussy. One of his large hands gripped her small wrists pressing them down on the mattress, above her head and right against the scrolled iron headboard. Occasionally, he'd release her wrists so he could trace the large tattoo of a dragon on her left hip or to give it a hard slap.

In reality, she was on the verge of climaxing so she stopped playing with her breasts and added some more members below. As her right fingers frantically rubbed her clit, the left fingers had become a meager substitute for Vic's cock.

"Oh God, Vic fuck me" She murmured, still reveling in the fantasy, as she rode her fingers.

She felt the familiar duo sensations of tightness and tingling bubbling up to the surface. When she did come, she bit her bottom lip so hard that there was faint blood teasing her taste buds. Tiny earthquakes of intense pleasure tore through her body, which gradually turned into tremors that withered down to little jolts inside of her womb. As she slid back down from that small bit of heaven, she rolled onto her side and stared at the couch's backrest. She removed her fingers, coated with her nectar and brought them to her lips. Always sweet with a slight tang she concluded, as she absently sucked on her fingertips.

"Shit, I need to have one of those orgasms more often," she said aloud to herself, amused and panting after she came back down to Earth. Then she realized he was getting too far into her head. Vic. Goddamn, him. Ivy had a bad feeling about Vic being here and blurring the line.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. .. ... .. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... ... ... ... ..

The next morning, Ivy pulled her old black Buick down the dirt road that led through Surville's industrial warehouse district. She passed custom auto body shops and the Surville fuel company finally parking in front of the to the Brotherhood's building.

She had only been here once before. She walked into the looming open recreation area.

"Well, if it aint Ivy Lee Pierce gracing us with her presence."

Ivy was feeling jumpy and she turned a little too quickly on her heel letting Doug see her discomfort.

"What are you doing here?" He asked gruffly.

"I don't like to explain myself."

"You don't belong here girl."

"I'm looking for someone."

"Doug snorted. "That so? Can't imagine a self-righteous princess like you having anything to do with us. Didn't you call us racist scumbags lower than shit on your boot heels."

"I'm looking for a guy named Vic. Is he here?"

"What you want with him?"

"Is he here?"

Before Doug could continue giving her a hard time, a booming voice echoed from the top of a metal stairwell in the corner of the room.

"Well, well. Is that Ivy Pierce?" Gall called down stepping outside of his second-floor office. He had an oddly smug look on his face as he descended the steps. "How's your daddy Ivy?" The question was menacing not friendly.

"Fine."

"Good. Good to know. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer ain't that what they say?"

She avoided his gaze and found her eyes landing on the Nazi flags and memorabilia in the room.

"What brings you all the way out here over the bridge Ivy?"

"I'm looking for somebody.'

"One of my boys? Whatchu want with one of my boys. Thought you couldn't stand us honey?"

"Vic his name is Vic. I…did a tattoo on him and he overpaid me. I'm here to give him his money back."

"Vic huh?"

"I didn't finish it so…"

"He's around here somewhere. Doug go get Vic tell him he got a visitor."

Doug grumbled but headed toward the residences. He was being treated more like an errand boy since that Yankee kiss ass got here and he wasn't happy about it.

"I can't do it anymore," Ivy said suddenly.

Gall raised his eyebrow.

"Tattoo your guys. It's not right, I don't feel right."

"Well that's a shame but we do have a deal. You're not forgetting about that now are you?"

"No. That's what I'm saying. It's over, deal and all."

"Who do you think you're talking to?"

Ivy looked away and Gall grabbed her arm. She wrenched it back.

"I think for the sake of your daddy's health and well-being you ain't gonna be breaking any deal. Your daddy's been doing fine right? Now you wouldn't want nothing to happen to him, would you?"

Ivy sighed. "No."

"Thought as much. Reminds me. I want to do something for my boys so I want you here for one of them tattoo parties Friday night. Gonna put you to work on a few new members who need the brand put on them. In fact, Vic is one of them."

Ivy knew the symbol well. She'd inked it on practically all Galls guys except for the ones that got the tattoo in prison. The official tattoo is a shamrock, the letters AB and three sixes. Only members of the AB are permitted to wear the "brand" of the gang; people found to be wearing the tattoo without the consent of the AB are subject to death. It's not a tattoo to take lightly.

"No way. The shop is one thing, but I'm not coming here…"

"I think for your daddy's sake you'll want you to. Friday night."

He turned and headed back upstairs to his office.

Shit. Ivy stepped outside for fresh air, feeling dizzy and angry.

"Hey, you wanted me?" Lax's voice came from behind.

She turned pushing her hair off her eyes. "Vic, yes. I…" She reached into her pocket for folded twenties and held them out to him."Take your money back."

"No. It's yours you earned it."

"I told you I'm an artist, not a whore."

"That really got to you huh?"

"Yes, so take the damn money and don't come back to the shop."

They both had residual feelings from the night before that made looking each other in the eye difficult. She noticed his boots had laddered red laces—arranged with the outside laces horizontal and parallel, resembling a ladder. They matched his red braces. She felt her gut churn. Sporting red laces and braces meant you were willing to kill for your race.

Finally, Lax caught her glance. "You mean that?"

"Yes, I do. Stay away from me Vic."

She dropped the money in the dirt and quickly headed to her car.

... ... ... ... .. .. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. .. ... .

*Johnny Rebel


	5. I Want Your Salvation

Ivy sipped her iced coffee and watched Vic standing over a crowded table writing down orders. It had been a couple of days since she confronted him at the warehouse. She didn't think he noticed her and she was relieved. Then she felt disappointed. Why hadn't he noticed her? I'm cracking up. I left him standing there...I threw his money back at him... I told him to leave me alone. That's what he is doing.

"Des I can't stop thinking about him."

"That why you dragged me here for lunch? We never come to this place. It's cause that Vic guy works here, huh?'"

Ivy nodded at her friend and put her head in her hands. "I don't know what I'm doing. I feel stupid for coming here…but…"

"You're either a stalker, a damn teenager looking for a prom date or a tease. Ivy this is not you." Désirée Meade was Ivy's best friend from high school. She still lived in town with her husband and toddler. At that moment, she was trying to be the voice of reason. She was well aware of the line in Surville.

Ivy actually felt shaky. Too much caffeine she tried to convince herself.

"Look, I've noticed him around too." Desiree continued. "He's the type of bad boy that every good woman should avoid. He's definitely what I like to call a fixer upper. I'm sure that any woman would love to help him and to take care of him. He's the perfect candidate: he's cute, he's moody, he has a nice body and he could definitely fuck a woman until she is comatose..."

Ivy raised her eyebrow.

"I'm guessing about that part okay."

"Well, yeah... look at him, the way he moves." Ivy put her face into her hands. "It's been a long time" she sighed "a really long time."

"So what Ivy? You gonna be his boot girl? Get your hair cut in a Chelsea? Start heil Hitlering?"

"No of course not."

"Ivy bottom line, he's one of them. He's in the Brotherhood. You can't. You can't even fuck him. You know that right?"

"Yeah, my dumb ass would definitely catch some feelings and end up being hurt by him."

"Hurt by him? Hurt by them. Jesus Ivy getting mixed up with Gall's guys is liable to get you killed. I'm serious. You're not one of them and they don't take kindly to that. Him too" She motioned to Lax. "What 'll they think of him being with a non-believer?"

"I know. You're right Des…you are. I don't think I could ignore that damn swastika I tattooed on his chest anymore. Every time I think about it, I do feel like it's wrong. It was always a symbol nothing more, but I'd never thought about being personal with anyone who wanted something like that."

"Ivy, he has the bolts outline tattoo."

Ivy knew that particular tattoo; just the outline of the SS symbol was earned for committing an act of violence, specifically a stabbing or shooting. Not murder. Not yet. That was the next step up the ladder.

"He is bad news Ivy. I can't even believe you are thinking this way."

Ivy chewed on her straw.

"Besides didn't he treat you like shit at the shop the other night?"

"One thing I miss about New York is good coffee," Ivy said changing the subject.

"I'm with you on that." Lax said suddenly standing over their table. "What I wouldn't give for a decent double espresso." Then he added "Get you anything else?"

"A cappuccino." Ivy had to smile a little. "With nutmeg. Ha ha."

Seeing her again reminded him of how cute she was and how calm she made him feel. It must have been hard for her to come here, but he wanted to know why she had after telling him to stay away from her.

Suddenly his stare was too much for Ivy and she felt that electricity from his presence. "Just the check, check…" Ivy blurted out suddenly feeling foolish for acting like a smitten teenager. He tore out their check and placed it on the table without another word. She knew it was wrong, but she had to talk to him. "I'll be right back, Des going to the ladies room."

"I'll meet you at the car."

"Hey, Vic?" Ivy said to Lax's back as he was putting on a fresh pot of coffee behind the counter. He turned and she found herself looking up into eyes that stared right through her. She started to talk, almost stuttering as she tried to come up with the right words. "I am really sorry. I shouldn't have run away from you like I did...shouldn't have made you take the money back or insulted you like that. Just want to apologize, set things straight." Her eyes dropped to the countertop with that admission. She ran out of things to say, her mouth was dry. She was nervous that he wouldn't speak to her or that he wouldn't have anything good to say if he did.

Then he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry too," he said quietly, and her eyes snapped back up to his, but she still couldn't speak. "I shouldn't have said what I did about you being a whore and a hypocrite."

"Thank you."

"So what do you want from me?" He asked. Ivy's stomach flipped and she felt that tingling electricity. Want? Want from him? She couldn't want anything. He smiled slightly at her perplexed expression. There was a silence that seemed incredibly long. Lax was desperate for her to say something, and still hoping despite his head trying to convince him it wasn't a possibility, that she might want more from him than just to talk.

"I wanted to say… I wish we could be friends. I wanted to see you again because I like talking to you. No one around here has anything intelligent to say."

She reached across the counter and touched his hand. He was shocked; not only that she had done it, but also at the reaction from his body. It felt amazing just having such a small amount of contact. It also made him want a lot more and was making his cock stir. She looked surprised, but she wasn't letting go of his hand. Ivy's glance fell on the SS outline tattoo on his forearm. Suddenly she choked up. "I have to go."

"Wait a sec…"

"No, I shouldn't have done that. Just forget it okay? I'm sorry. This is wrong."

"Don't be. I am who I am."

"Why? Why do you have to be one them?" Lax heard her voice crack. This girl was so open, so sweet so sexy. He couldn't help but respect her fight and wanted to tell her the truth, tell her he was as sickened by the Brotherhood as she was. He respected her fight because knew he was losing his own.

"Forget it okay?" She turned quickly, her voice was breathless. "Just forget everything."

"Fuck it." Lax kicked an empty milk crate into the wall. She was right. They couldn't do this.

.. .. … .. … … … … … … … … … … … … …. . … … … .. … … … .. … … … … … … .. … … … … .. .. .. .. .. ..

"You with us Vic?"

Lax was thinking about Ivy, what she'd said about being friends, touching his hand... he wanted to be pissed at her for acting like a tease, but he knew she was afraid.

"Vic, I said you with us?"

Lax looked up to see the faces of the other men around the table staring at him.

"Yeah, to the bone."

Gall nodded. "Well, there's a boot party planned for some in need of a beat down. Doug is heading the crew and I want you there, Vic. Time for you to make your bones, show us how hardcore you are."

Gall had plans for Vic, but he knew they were dependent on him showing the rest of the crew he was as committed to violence as they were. Blood in, blood out.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ...

Lax walked. He walked as if the act of moving his feet could undo what he'd done with his fists earlier. He'd felt like he was in a surreal horror film version of West Side Story. The beat down was aimed at a supposed black crack dealer and his crew in the next town. It was a joke. None of those kids could have been more than sixteen. Lax had gotten his punches in; he'd had to maintain his image, at least until the rest of the guys got too involved to notice him hanging back. Now he felt sick. He didn't plan his destination but wasn't surprised when he walked toward the door of the tattoo shop.

She was sitting behind the counter drawing up a new design wearing a ripped, old, faded Rancid band t-shirt and a form-fitting lycra skirt. Just seeing her sent a calm vibration through him.

Ivy looked up as Lax entered the shop. She wasn't really surprised Vic had come even though she'd asked him not to. She hadn't seen him since the day at the diner.

"I think you should finish what you started."

Ivy wasn't sure what he meant until he added, "My tattoo."

"Its late, we're closing up."

"Won't take long just the shading. Got money…I...look I had a really shitty day.' His voice was almost pleading.

"Fine. Come on." She led him back to her room. "Jesse, lock the front door when you go," she called over her shoulder.

"So, how is it healing?" She asked closing the door behind them.

Lax made a move to remove his shirt in response, but Ivy stepped forward brushing his hand away. Vic produced that thrilling spark in her chest that she hadn't felt in so long, craved so desperately, never thought she'd find again... damn it, she wanted him. There were no two ways about it. Ivy couldn't get that dream out of her head. It was the pebble that felled a hollowed wall. Everything seemed to go out of focus. She was alone in a private haze of desire and as though she was sleepwalking she found herself reaching up and tugging the red suspenders off his shoulders. They fell and hung at his hips. "Braces down ready for a fight." She whispered huskily, sliding her hands under his t-shirt. She was running her fingers over his naked skin and all he could do was stand there letting her. She pushed the shirt off over his head. She kissed his chest avoiding looking at the swastika. When one of her hands snaked towards his jeans, he froze. He desperately wanted her to touch his hard dick but didn't dare ask. It was almost as though she could read his mind when she suddenly went for it and rubbed down the length through his jeans.

"Ivy, is this what you want?"

"It's why you came here isn't it?"

She started to undo the button and then the zip on his jeans. He was shaking and was having trouble staying upright, probably because all his blood was now in his crotch. His eyes were glazed, but he could still see her and her face was full of want, especially when she saw how hard he was. He was leaking so much precum that his boxers were already wet.

"Do you want this?" He groaned the question.

"I…I don't know…"

He grabbed her forearms making her gasp. As his grip became tighter on her arms, she winced at the pain. Then, he pressed his forehead against hers. Those enraged, intense blue eyes were burning into her.

"Then tell me to go." He rasped his voice thick with desire. When she didn't answer he growled louder. "Tell me to go Ivy."

She pulled her arm from his grasp and caught his hand. He entwined his fingers between hers, clearly not wanting to let even that small contact go. She noticed swollen scabbed knuckles. She looked up and he shook his head. There was a moment, which felt like a lifetime, before she leaned in, tilting her head, clearly coming in for a kiss. She swallowed nervously again but kept going, knowing she shouldn't want him. As their lips touched, very gently, she couldn't believe how it felt. She had never had a kiss, especially one so simple, do so much to her. She felt her guts tighten and her body vibrated at the contact. It didn't take long for the kiss to deepen. When her lips opened and his tongue slipped into play with hers, he groaned at her sighs. She wrapped one arm around his neck and moved the other up to his head to run her fingers through his slicked back hair. She sighed contentedly when his arms came around her, and the kiss got more heated as they embraced, lips and tongues moving together as they pressed their bodies as close as possible.

You know that this cannot happen, right? Her conscience informed her. He is part of a Neo-Nazi Skinhead hate group. They hate people who believe things you do. Ivy broke from the kiss but kept running her fingers through his hair. Oh my sweetness, she thought as she stared at him. He could cause me a bunch of trouble, but all he has to do is smile at me and I melt like butter. Lax roughly pushed her shirt up and she obliged by raising her arms allowing him to pull it over her head. Oh, my sweetness, girl, please don't tell me that you're getting wet for this man, her conscience chastised loudly as he placed his hand on her breast kneading it through her bra. She suddenly felt so embarrassed by what her conscience said that she tried to lower her head, to avoid his gaze, but he used his own head to force hers to stay up. Lax's voice had changed; it had gone deeper raspier.

"Ivy what do you want?" There was lust in his voice. It was very clear.

"I can't do this."

"Have you been thinking about me? Is that why you keep coming around to the warehouse and the diner? Thought you hated those guys, guys like me."

She wasn't able to answer his inquiry with an actual response so a breathy moan escaped her mouth. He slid his hands down her arms and he placed them firmly on her rounded hips. She clasped on his chest to maintain her balance. Her flesh felt like it was on fire. Her lungs were heavy and she was slightly light-headed. Oh, my sweetness her mind screamed as his hands traveled down to her ass cheeks and up under her skirt. His fingers kneaded and caressed her skin.

"Oh shit." She moaned low, under her breath. She reached out to feel the muscles in his biceps.

"Do you hate me?" His lips were hovering over hers. His lips were so close to hers that she felt sure they were sharing the same air.

"I have to hate you…" Ivy said weakly knowing how stupid that sounded.

"So you hate me..." he said with warmth in his eyes and anger in his voice. "Then why am I still here?" he growled. Both of his hands gave each of her ass cheeks a slap. She emitted out a guttural moan and he had taken advantage of that perfect opportunity. His mouth swallowed her moan and his tongue invaded her mouth again. Her fingers found their way back into his slicked back hair and her fingernails lightly scraped his scalp while his own slid inside her thong assessing her wetness. He pulled the piece of lingerie down her thighs and when it pooled at her ankles, Ivy stepped out of it grinding her pussy into his palm. There was a deep groan that seemed to have come from the depths of his soul. Then, without any warning, he lifted her up and she had to wrap her legs around his narrow waist to keep from falling. She gasped in shock while her lips were planted on his. By the time their lips parted, they were breathless and gasping for oxygen. The separation was required for the both of them they both needed to regroup. "Don't worry, I got you," he assured as his hands gripped her thighs and he pushed her back against the wall.

"I can't do this. Not with you…" Ivy put up her last ounce of fight. They fell into silence. Now quiet, they stared at each other.

"Can't tell me you haven't thought about it."

She swallowed. "Have you...thought about it… with me?"

"Fuck, it's all I can think about," He buried his face into her neck.

"Me too," Ivy whispered. "I've wanted you since we first met."

There were only the sounds of inhaling and exhaling. She stared down at him, her hands cradled his face. Her eyes raked over the few imperfections that he possessed and then her fingertips briefly touched them. "There is a line… I am crossing the line." She murmured as the soles of her fingertips grazed over the small, curved scar that hugged the outer corner of his eyebrow. Her fingers touched the small, moles that rested above his upper full lip. Then, her fingertips softly traced every feature on his face, as if she were committing them to memory.

"You like what you see?" he teased, breaking her out of the reverie.

"Yeah, I see plenty of things that I like," She stated, sounding sensuous, before planting a kiss on his lips." I surrender. She slipped her hand in between their bodies, past his tight abs, grabbed his engorged member and rubbed the tip against the crevice of her swollen pussy lips, coating him with her juices. His hands tightened their grip on her thighs and he groaned in pleasure. She rubbed against him a few more times and then she welcomed his cock into her warmth.

"Oh shit," She gasped. She underestimated his size and thickness. She had made a few attempts before she succeeded in slipping him inside. She wasn't halfway down his shaft when Lax decided to beat her to her to the punch. He pushed the rest of his thick member inside in one quick thrust. She cried out due to both pleasure and pain. It has been a year since she'd last had sex, so things were a bit tight. Plus, his dick was the biggest one that she'd ever dealt with.

"Shit, you're so fucking tight," he groaned, once his prick was situated deep inside of her. His thrusts were slow-paced but tapped every nerve ending that was inside of her. Unexpectedly in this position, she quickly surrendered to her first orgasm. He kept a firm grip on her as her body trembled in his arms.

"It's been a while," she reasoned, in a manner that sounded like a whimper. She heard the leather of his boots creak with each thrust of his cock. Holding her in his powerful arms, still wedged inside, he took hold of her legs and arranged them higher on his waist. Now aware that she hadn't been sexually active for quite some time, Lax was cautious and she deeply appreciated it. But, after a while of dealing with the slow and gentle strokes, she felt like she was being teased and cheated out of his best.

"Vic," she moaned, as she stared up at the ceiling mirror watching. She gazed at the reflection of his tattooed back and at her inked legs as they were draped around his muscled torso.

"Mmmm?" he groaned. His face rested on the curve of her neck while his mouth was leaving her with one hell of a hickey.

"Fuck me harder." She requested panting. He lifted his head just so he could stare into her brown eyes.

"You want me to fuck you harder?" he asked, with a mischievous smile on his face. She nodded her head frantically.

"How hard?" he asked with his hips still providing slow thrusts.

"W-w-what, what do you mean?" She asked, feeling confused by his question. Suddenly, he stopped moving and then he pulled his dick out. She had watched his hand stroke his cock a few times before he placed it on top of her pussy. She whimpered in protest when she tried to slide it back inside of her with a tilt of her pelvis and failed miserably.

"What I mean is how hard you want to be fucked?"

"Any fucking pace beside this one will work," She admitted, smiling. He pushed his lips into a smirk before reaching down to give her a passion-filled kiss. God, I love kissing him. As their lips caressed each other, she grabbed the base of his cock and slowly guided him back inside. Once he bottomed out, his hips rotated while his pelvis ground against her pussy. Both of their groans of pleasures had flooded the room. Lax's face had gone back to his resting place in the curve of her neck. The circular pelvic movements were conjuring moans and indecipherable words out of her. With the feeling of his cock's head nudging against her cervix and the way it had stretched her walls, it felt like he was at home inside her. Then, there was the rough texture of his pubic hair scraping up against her bare swollen lips and clit. A surge of pleasure that shot up from her crotch and up into her stomach making her tilt her hips up and tightened her legs around his waist, to maximize her pleasure. She gripped his forearms and her nails dug into his flesh.

"Oh, fuck," She whimpered.

"You like that?" he whispered into her ear, as he continued to grind his hips. A simple head nod and a moan were her answer. There was a chuckle and then he proceeded to rock her world off of its axis, by handing out shorter thrusts that were harsher and faster. The pleasure eventually became so intense that she gripped his hips to try to control the pace. Of course, the act was futile and her attempt to gain control did not go unnoticed. "There's no way, girl, that I am going to stop," he grunted. When increased the intensity behind his thrusts yet again she moaned out for him to continue. She clutched his shoulders and he pressed her body closer.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,..." she moaned as if chanting a prayer and Vic was either the angel or the devil that had answered. This man and his actions had managed to gain the attention of all five of her senses. She smelled the sharp fragrance that belonged to the soap that he used, the acidic odor of his sweat and the slight smell of his deodorant. With every powerful thrust, she felt her womb contract and expand around his dick. She heard the sounds that their sweat-soaked bodies made when they rubbed against each other and his heavy panting. She felt the warmth from his breath on her face as her eyes drifted up to the ceiling, to gaze at their reflections. They looked beautiful together. She watched her hands trail down his back over the well-toned muscles. During her silent assessment, Ivy felt herself slip under that first impending wave of her next orgasm.

"I'm coming…Vic…I'm…" she moaned softly as the ache swelled.

"Yeah, that's it come with my cock in you," Lax growled into her ear unraveling her.

"Oh shit… fuck…I…," she gasped loudly as her body surrendered to the internal explosion of pleasure. At that moment, it felt like the concept of time no longer existed and this feeling, this intense sense of touch, would last for eternity. Ivy wanted him to stay inside of her forever until her last breath. At that moment, no one existed except for two people: Vic and herself. She was aware that his thrusts had lost their fluidity and they were sporadic. Lax was coming then and her insides were coated with his thick, hot come. The same thick nectar proceeded to spill out of her battered, sore pussy and dripped down her thighs. After his sexual release, Lax gently let her down on her shaking legs. He collapsed forward on top of her and shrouded her body like a blanket. His hard form felt heavy, hot and sweaty as it crushed her. Each of them experienced a post-coitus high before they reluctantly shifted their bodies apart.

"Are you okay?" He asked. She let out a trembling sigh for an answer so he went on, "How do you feel?" She touched his face and let her fingers linger on the moles. She kissed him softly, sadly as an answer.

"Shit, we didn't use a condom." Lax realized aloud.

"Well, I know I'm clean, and I'm on the pill."

"Sorry, I haven't fucked anybody it in ages, I'm clean too."

They stood in uncomfortable silence until she moved away with a limp that only great sex can create, She retrieved her shirt and bra from the floor. She let out another shaky sigh, a sign of disgust at herself, as a stream of his seminal fluid dripped down her legs. After she had dressed, she turned her head. "This can't happen again."

Lax pressed his lips together and winced. "Because of what I am, huh?"

"Yes. It's too dangerous. For both of us. I swore I'd never get involved with ...them...you…"

"I know. You're right." He stared at her with regret. Finally, he broke the silence. "At least now we don't have to wonder what it would be like." He pulled his shirt on over his head and adjusted his suspenders. "You're beautiful." He added, leaving Ivy with desolate inner loneliness.

Ivy sat on the stool, her head in her hands. Why did he have to be one of them? Why? She began to think of different notions of what Vic was doing with Gall's group, what he must have done in New York. She imagined horrible crimes she knew the Brotherhood committed. The contents of her stomach churned while a case of nausea caused the saliva inside of her mouth to thicken and her throat constrict. She stared at the door for a few seconds before she closed her eyes. No, no, he wouldn't have done those things, she said to herself. He's different, he's too smart. She swallowed hard and sighed. Come on girl, you know better than that. It's worse that he's intelligent because he believes the bullshit he should know better. Damn, he was a racist and he stood for everything she'd been taught to believe is wrong that she did believe was wrong. He is one of them. He's a neo-nazi. A white supremacist. If he wanted a relationship, how would it work for us? What's going to happen to us if his friends found out that he is dating me? I doubt they are going to accept me. I damn sure know that they are not going to invite me to annual barbecues. Vic couldn't simply cut his ties with them. It didn't work that way. His buddies won't give him a farewell party with a silk tie as a parting gift. A noose maybe, but definitely not a neck tie. Blood in and blood out. Besides who says he'd want out. She began to think about the possible repercussions that they'd face if they ever did date and his 'comrades' found out. All of her ideas ended with the same result, the both of them being slaughtered by a bunch of steel toed boot wearing, bald-headed psychos.

With the thoughts of murder and mutilation running through her mind, Ivy turned off the lights and headed out the back door. God, I'm such a fucking fool. Was the last thing she had said to herself before Doug was behind her in the parking lot.

"You ought to lock that back door Ivy. I seen you and that nigger loving Yankee. So we ain't good enough for you huh? But he gets in your pants huh?"

"Fuck off Doug."

He grabbed her arm and slammed her against the wall squeezing her throat tightly. "Listen, don't you ever fuckin' tell me what to do, you fuckin' nigger loving bitch!" Before Doug could finish pronouncing that vile word, she slapped him on the side of his face. She used so much velocity that his head had rocked to the side and he hand released her neck.

"Don't you ever speak to me that way again!" She shouted and slapped him a second time. "You are a racist piece of shit!"

"So's Vic, what's the difference? Fuck one, why not fuck 'em all." He managed to fend off her attack and kept pushing her back into the wall. He grabbed her throat again and lifted her off the ground this time. The tips of her toes were brushing the pavement. She stared down at his enraged face and tried to pry his hand off her throat by scratching at his wrist and forearm. Nothing was working, he was too goddamned strong.

"Let me go," She growled. "Let me fucking go, you racist asshole!" His grip on her neck became tighter. She managed a few more slaps, both of his cheeks had taken on a maroon color. "Let me go," She whimpered, feeling the first stages of losing consciousness as her stubbornness and fight weakened.

"Doug let her go, what the hell you doin?" JC came from around front.

"Puttin this bitch in her place."

"C'mon man leave her alone." JC never stood up to Doug, never sided against him on anything. But Ivy. "Its Ivy Doug, let up!"

"You know she just fucked that nigger loving Yankee. But the bitch is too good to fuck any of us. I think we ought to change that. Right now."

JC felt his gut clench at the mention of Ivy being with Vic, but he figured it was Doug being an asshole as usual.

"You been waiting since junior high. Now's your chance. C'mon bro, get in line."

"Doug, man let her go," JC argued. He'd been in love with Ivy all his life this was not how he would treat her. "It ain't worth it. Sean'll gut you if he finds out you done anything to her. You know it."

Doug's face was still twisting with rage when he let go of Ivy's neck. She was gasping for breath when he shoved his knee into her crotch painfully. She was still sore from Lax's treatment earlier and cried out sharply. "This time you get off easy. But remember I'm watching you. I'm gonna knock your stuck up ass down a few pegs. Just you wait."

"Don't threaten me."

"Just did sweetheart. I'm not done with you." Doug stepped back and headed to the road.

"Ivy, you okay?" JC asked sincerely. "Doug's an asshole, you know how he is…"

"I'm fine." She rubbed her neck. "Thanks to you Jimmy Carl." Ivy looked up and was eye level with the 'All Rise' tattoo she'd done on his neck many years ago. What happened to you? She wanted to ask. JC noticed in addition to the red choking marks on her neck, hickeys and beard chafing plain as day. Maybe she had ben with Vic. He felt his anger seethed.

"You want a ride anywhere?" Ivy asked.

"No. You best get home." He sounded short almost angry with her all of a sudden. "Did you?" He asked.

"No. Of course not." Ivy lied with a steady voice and a straight face. "Like you said, Doug's just being an ass trying to cause trouble." She lied to protect Vic as much as herself.

"You drop something?" JC bent down retrieving a pocket-sized spiral notebook from the ground. Ivy took it from him not knowing why but feeling she should say yes, even though she'd never seen it before. "Thanks."

"So I'll see you Friday night? You giving me my brand, right?"

"Yeah, see you then."

After he'd left, she sat in her car and casually flipped through the notebook. The names of the Brotherhood leaders were listed, their identifying features, who was in what rank, where to find them. Then the business card of an FBI agent fell into her lap.


	6. Nobody Moves Nobody Gets Hurt

_NYC present day._

Ivy walked close enough to feel Lax's heat as she traced the swastika tattoo's shape on his chest. A shiver ran through him. She moved to the lower ink, the single lined upside down cross beneath his diaphragm.

He traced it too, sliding his finger over hers. He felt his groin tighten as she let her palm settle on the space just above his navel. He took it as a sign that she still felt their physical attraction. He hadn't come here for this...he hadn't. But just as in Georgia his pain and turmoil seemed so easily healed by connecting with her; kissing her, fucking her. She was the sexiest woman he'd ever come across. An almost fatal physical pull came over him as if it were two years ago and they were hiding, sneaking around in Surville.

"Jesus Christ," Ivy said.

"Mmmh..." Lax pulled her hand up to his mouth. "What?"

"Jesus Christ. I think that's what I'm gonna cover that swastika with." She pulled her hand away.

Lax sensed her distance.

She felt his hot breath on her ear and smelled his spicy, clean scent. Ivy knew what he was doing. The attraction was still there and she felt like it was the first time she met him all over again, trying to fight it, but her body knowing it was supposed to answer his. Her body worked to silence her mind.

His lips moved so perfectly against hers, she would swear an oath his lips were made just for her. He slipped his tongue in gently.

She ran her hands up over his solid abs. He groaned softly.

His mouth left her lips and moved to her cheeks, then to her neck landing on her shoulder. She ran her fingernails across his scalp and pulled him closer. She wanted him lower, but then again she wasn't ready. Not yet anyway.

When he swept his thumb across her cheek to her jaw line, she pulled back. He looked confused.

"Notice anything different? About my face?" Ivy asked, her heart beating fast.

He noticed she wore more makeup than she used to, but he figured it was just living in the city being on television.

"I was in the trauma unit for seven action-packed, fun-filled hours, so they could put me back together. I remember staring at the ceiling in shock, but I didn't cry once, cause I'm one tough bitch." She smiled half-heartedly. "If you look close you can see the gashes under my eye. The surgeon said a fraction of a hair closer to my eye, I might have lost it. I'm a lucky, lucky girl. It took seven surgeries to put this side of my face back together. Lucky seven. " She said matter of factly.

Lax remained silent a pained look on his face.

"Lucky girl."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .

Georgia

"Ivy Lee Pierce! What in blazes happened to you?"

Shit, daddy. She gulped down her coffee and was just about out the back door when Harlan entered the kitchen.

Her father saw the reddish-purple bruises marring her neck. "Daddy, I'm fine. Don't be worrying yourself.'

"Someone did that to you. Those look like hand prints! Who? Are you?... is anything...let's go see Carl." He said referring to Sheriff Daggett.

"Daddy no."

"Ivy..."

"It was Doug okay?"

"Wilson? One of Gall's boys? But why? What are you even doing around them?"

"Look daddy I'm fine. It was a stupid misunderstanding. You know Doug is crazy. Always has been with his hair-trigger temper. I got in an argument with him and he just went nuts. I'm fine and I just wanna forget it."

"No, we need to tell Carl about this.'

"Why? Daddy you know he won't do anything. He can't. I know he's your friend and I know Sheriff Daggett means well but he's wrapped around Gall's little finger too. You know it'll stir up trouble and make everything worse."

Harlan stood up a bit straighter and began "First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out. Because I was not a Socialist. Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out. Because I was not a Trade Unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out Because I was not a Jew." He paused for emphasis. " Then they came for me-and there was no one left to speak for me."

How many times had she heard that poem by Martin Niemöller.

Daddy I know...I..I'm...not being a coward. You also need to know when to pick your battles. This is not worth it. Remember last time? They tried to burn down the house. The garage is still a scorched mess of lumber. Daddy, I need to handle some stuff okay. Trust me. Just trust me. I am careful. I love you." She stood on tiptoe and kissed her dad's cheek. "Everything will be fine."

Harlan looked at his daughter's marked neck then down at the floor. "All right." He said quietly. "But you steer clear of them Ivy. You know better."

You know better. She sure as hell did. By the way daddy, I had sex with a Neo-Nazi. He's an Aryan white supremacist. You raised me to be tolerant and believe in equality. You played me the speeches of Malcolm X and Martin Luther King. I read books by bell hooks, Toni Morrison, Sojourner Truth and Marcus Garvey! You marched and protested in the Civil rights movement. You have friends who were in a chapter of the Black Panther Party! So, there's no way in hell that I should've fucked Vic Bishop.

"Ivy? Ivy did you hear me?"

"What?"

"I think you should have that looked at by Dr. Holden."

"Daddy I'm Fine. It's not like when I was a teenager. This is not starting again. I promise."

Ivy shook her head dismissively but as she passed the mirror in the hallway she glimpsed the deep bluish purple streaks around her throat where Doug had squeezed and used her neck to hold her up off the ground.

She called the shop to let them know she wouldn't be in. Jesse rescheduled her two appointments.

She lay on her bed feeling pain in her neck from her attack and a sore sting between her legs from the sex she'd had the night before. She hadn't felt so depressed in years. The loneliness and sense of failure began to creep from her belly through her chest and settled in her mind. Where am I going? Back here in a nowhere town. She missed New York. She was doing well in school had gotten praise and notoriety in the student art shows. Now she was laying on her bed in her childhood bedroom staring the ceiling feeling despondent at everything. Everything except the thought of Vic. Vic made her feel secure, less alone and validated. She rolled over and grabbed her purse from the floor and pulled out the spiral notebook. It had to be his. But what did it mean? Was he in on a hit of an FBI agent? Or was he not who he said he was?

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Late the next morning Lax finished working the breakfast shift at the diner and started walking. He felt hollow and the empty feeling lead him to his destination. He looked up at the door of Colby's Tattoo shop.

He asked, "Is Ivy here?" As the bell on the door jingled behind him.

The older guy behind the counter looked up from the paperwork he was studying and gave Lax a long once over, holding a toothpick steady between his teeth. His mustache and scruffy brown goatee sported a bit of gray as did his long hair pulled back into a braid. "No, she's not working today," Oliver answered.

"Okay. When will she be in?"

"Dunno. By the way, I don't allow your kind in here so I'd get your ass out the door as quick as you can man. And I catch you bothering Ivy in any way, you'll be dealing with me."

Lax just nodded not in the mood to fight. Damn, Ivy was beloved and protected around here. He could see why. He left without any argument.

"Hey," Lax called to Jesse who jumped the curb on his skateboard landing with a hard crack and pulling to a stop in front of the shop.

"What?"

"Do you know Ivy's address?"

"Why?"

"I need to talk to her."

Jesse gave him a long hard look. "Would she wanna see you?"

"Yeah, man.'

"23 Peach St. Follow Main St past the hardware store and it's the third left. You'll see it."

"Man, can I say something?"

Lax shrugged.

"You are a weird dude. Can't figure you out.'

"Better not try, wouldn't be good for you. But hey thanks for this.'

Jesse nodded.

... ... ... .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Harlan Pierce thought it strange to hear his doorbell ring out before noon. Or ring out at all for that matter. Any visitors he usually got just barged right in calling his name. He answered the door an open book in one hand a folded newspaper in the other. He barely looked up from the pages of the book.

""Yes?'

"Is Ivy here?" Lax looked up and swore the actor Hal Holbrook playing Mark Twain had answered the door. Lax noticed her car in the driveway. She must be home.

"And you are...'

"A friend.'

"You didn't let me finish, son. And you are one of Gall's associates."

Lax saw the man glance at the bolts on his bicep. "Yes, sir."

"Then I don't think you can be much of a friend to my daughter. "

"I need to speak with her.'

"No, I don't think you do. "

"Can you tell her I came by?"

... ... ... ... .. .. .. .. .

Over the next couple of days, Lax tried a new personal mantra. I am not in love with her. I am not in love with her. It was just sex, just like every other time and every other woman. It wasn't working and no matter how much he fought, he still thought of her. He remembered how she felt, how she tasted, how her body responded to his as he fucked her. He couldn't get hard unless he thought of their night together, but he tried not to because it hurt too much when his next thought was about how he had to walk out on her. They couldn't be together he never should have gotten close to her. He deserved that pain and frustration He lay back on his bed thinking about Ivy. One minute she's hot and confident and sexy as hell, then sometimes she looks like a scared little rabbit, that can't get away fast enough. But they'd reached a turning point, right? It was the best sex he'd ever had. He swore he could still feel her tight pussy clamp down on him when she came. He could still hear those little whimpers when he hit that one spot. Fuck, those whimpers could drive him to his knees.

He was planning on making himself scarce that night at the warehouse. She was coming by to tattoo. Over the past few days any attempt he'd made to see her had been thwarted so he was trying to take it as a sign.

... ...

She had debated long and hard about blowing off Gall's tattoo party, but in the end Ivy knew if she wanted to keep her father out of the hat, meaning off of the AB's murder list, she truly had no choice. She walked in a little after nine pm, wearing her armor. Black Lip Service junkie fit jeans, 14 hole Doc Marten boots an oversized Discharge band t-shirt and her leather motorcycle jacket. Her eyes were rimmed heavily in Kohl. She wanted to be dark as a contrast to the bleached blond and light skin birds and Aryan wives in attendance, who looked down on her with disdain. She'd gone to high school with these girls. The cheerleader Lacy, the Avril Lavigne obsessed Kayla ...they all fell in with Gall's boys and swore to protect the white race and bear white children. Married to Moose and Bubba saddled with four kids each, only getting out once in a while to a KKK rally or an AB tattoo party. Behind her, she wheeled her travel case full of her tattoo equipment. She was met by the raucous angry music of the live band playing on the makeshift stage in the warehouse a local Hammerskin Nation band. God they were horrible.

She had just finished setting up her equipment on a table in the corner under a hanging light bulb when she saw Vic. He was in the corner talking to some blond chelsea'd boot girl. Ivy turned her attention back to her set up. The guys were watching the band. She had a little time before she had to start. She was at the keg filling her red plastic cup with beer when his husky voice assaulted her from behind.

"Hey." Lax couldn't stay away from her.

She turned.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Lax was concerned at seeing her neck. He drew in a long steadying breath. "You okay Ivy?"

"I'm fine. It's over." He knew she was referring to them which was Doug's reason for tracking her.

"Doug, he saw us the other night. Okay? So really you better get away from me. It's not looking good right now you and me taking,"

"Skinhead cunt," He grumbled, but his heart wasn't in it. His face showed anger, but he also was chewing the knuckle of his right thumb which he only did when he was really stressed. "It's my fault. I'm sorry."

She didn't know what to say. She thought about the notebook and wanted to bring it up but wasn't sure how. She knew that whatever it was to Vic it made a relationship with him even more dangerous. She felt awkward, not wanting to make things worse but not really knowing how to making anything better.

Lax put his hand on the small of her back and pushed her ahead of him. She knew she should protest, but his hand on her back made her weak in the knees.

They had to edge through the crowd to get to the door, but once inside the back area it was empty and the sound of the crowd was shut off. She followed Lax down the narrow corridors to the back door.

"Ivy I need to talk to you," He said as he closed the door behind him and leaned against it. She stood looking past him at the scattered stars in the night sky.

His voice sounded strained. "Listen, it's not right, look at you, that's bad, your neck is fucked up."

"Forget it, he was just pissed because he saw me with you. I don't want to be the cause of a fight."

"He had his hands all over you. I 'm really angry, and ... "

"I know," She cut in. "But I don't care, he's just a jerk and not worth starting a fight over." She knew she couldn't ask him about the notebook but deep down she knew it was more important now that he never gets in a conflict with Doug or any of the guys.

"Listen to me, Ivy," Lax demanded. He took a step forward and rested one hand on her shoulder. Her eyes were level with his collar-bone and she had to look up to see his face. He was looking at her with a slightly glazed expression, still biting his knuckle. She could feel his body trembling. "Ivy it's not that."

She blushed and turned her head, but Lax kept talking.

"I'm so pissed, I want to hurt him bad. It's because... because I don't want anyone to touch you. Anyone but me."

He drew a deep breath and put his hand on her chin to turn her face back toward him. When he spoke again, his voice was very soft and there was a note of pleading in it. "Ivy, promise me you won't let anyone else touch you. The thought of it..."

Her eyes were sad and filled with longing. "Vic we can't you know we can't."

"You want to, though right?"

"Yes... you know I do. It's too dangerous." She said hooking her fingers inside his waistband and pulling him toward her.

She licked her lips nervously as Lax's eyes narrowed and he focused on her movement. He lowered his head and pressed his mouth against hers, hard. His lips were slightly parted and she whimpered when she felt his warm, scratchy mouth pressing down onto hers, she could feel the weight of his body behind that kiss.

She moaned against Lax's mouth and raised her hands wrapping her arms around his neck and tangling her fingers in his slick hair.

Lax hummed low in his throat and broke the kiss to whisper against her lips, "So sexy Ivy."

"Why do you have to feel like this...feel so right." She sighed. Her insides glowed. She could feel his erection growing and pushing against her thigh.

"Touch me, Ivy."

She nodded her head quickly, feeling her mouth go dry in excitement and nervousness. She pressed her palm against his bulge and massaged him making him push hard into her hand, aching for comfort.

His lips fit so perfectly against hers and let her be the aggressor this time. If she was honest, it was hot that he wasn't touching her yet, but she still felt like he was in complete control of the kiss. Yet, she was the one taking what she wanted. He always made her feel she was the one who started things.

He spun her back to the side of the building. He lowered his head and took her earlobe between his teeth. The small nip of pain shot straight between her legs. She gave what she hoped was a silent gasp. He took his hand and slid it under her shirt to cup her breast. He couldn't tell because of her bra, but her nipples were at painfully hard peaks. She arched slightly into his hand and was rewarded with a hard squeeze. His mouth latched onto her neck. He nipped and suckled the pulse below her ear down to her shoulder. He moved his hand down her stomach to her waistband. One of his fingers traced the skin just underneath it.

His hand moved lower still. His finger swiped over her sex. Her jeans still covered it, but she felt the heat of his hand when he cupped her and started rubbing her through her jeans with his palm. She started rolling her hips in time with his movements.

She turned her face to him and bit his shoulder to stifle her groans. She felt her orgasm building. Vic was going to make her come for him without ever touching her skin to skin.

She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and clamped her teeth harder on his shoulder. His breath was getting quicker and heavier. Everything started to coil in that one place between her legs. Just a little more.

"Come for me, Ivy" she heard Vic whisper in her ear. That was all she needed. The coils tightened and then snapped in a sweet release that she felt all the way to her hair. When she finally regained the ability to think, she released his shirt and took her teeth off of his shoulder. She kissed the spot she had bitten, wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. She needed a minute to breathe him in and sooth herself. He seemed to understand, as usual where her needs were concerned because he lightly ran his fingers up and down her spine. He kissed her temple, the top of her head and arm where it wrapped around his neck.

"Is there anywhere we can go?" Ivy asked huskily, full of need.


	7. For The Love Of Ivy

"Is there anywhere we can go?" Ivy asked huskily, full of need.

"You sure?" Vic grunted scanning the area.

She nodded into his neck, nipping at his pulsing jugular. "I can't start tattooing until the bands are done... at least an hour…" She gently squeezed the aching bulge straining under his zipper.

"Please…I want…" she whispered when he hesitated.

"Its risky..."

"Please..." Ivy sighed again. That was all he needed to break any resolve or common sense he struggled to put forward. He took her hand and led her to the fire escape on the side of the warehouse. He gently pushed her up the stairs ahead of him keeping his eyes open for anyone lingering below. Lax continued to keep alert as he smuggled her down the hall into his room. He closed the sliding door he managed to put together for privacy. She hardly noticed the swastika and Confederate flags on the walls of this small room. She knew she should be bothered, her guilt fought to rise but all she wanted to focus on was Vic in the dim light of the windowless room.

Ivy wondered how he could make her feel this way; so completely overwhelmed; he infiltrated her senses and made her feel like she had no control. His heat, his scent his energy penetrated every pore and she had to touch him. Had to let him touch her. She never lost control, not until Vic. She felt tears well. She was also assaulted by the guilt and the fear that she might lose him or might love him?

Lax grasped her shoulders and he brushed the hair from her face with his nose then pulled back to lock eyes with Her. Ivy noticed a softness there she'd never seen before, but behind it something else burned. He placed his palms on her glistening cheeks, wet with her tears then moved closer to kiss her. Lax wanted to take his time. He didn't want this to feel like a guilty stolen moment. He was feeling something for Ivy and her tears proved she felt for him. His first touch was soft, their lips barely meeting. The second slightly firmer. The third his tongue flicked gently against hers. His hands moved to the back of her head, tangling her hair, pulling her to him. His kiss became rough and hard, overflowing with the passion burning in his eyes. He crushed his lips to hers, melding them together, his tongue searching her mouth, snake-like.

As they kissed open mouthed and greedily the knot of fear in Ivy's stomach gradually unwound and was replaced by the intoxicating wave of desire only he could arouse. His hands pulled at her clothes, hers at his. He kneeled and unlaced her boots. Watching him untie and remove them one at a time made her thighs tremble. After slipping out of her tight jeans, she stood before him for a moment watching him take in her naked form. His eyes lingered on her and the hunger in them made her feel precious, wanted. She lowered herself to his mattress and lay back watching him remove his own steel toed boots. He then pulled down his red braces and stripped his shirt off, losing each piece of clothing a step at a time as he approached, almost stalking toward her. His belt was undone, the buckle clinking as he moved. He kneeled over her, his body pressing down on top of her while she quickly opened his pants freeing his hard cock so it was between them flesh on flesh. His mouth moved to her neck, licking, sucking and biting; marking her over the vengeful marks of Doug's attack. Healing her flesh with his mouth. Marking her. There was no need; she already knew she was his.

Ivy I don't want anyone else touching you.

She pushed him back and he flipped over pulling her down on top of him. She leaned over him, kissing his neck, moving down to flick her tongue against his nipples, sucking them hard. All the time she rocked her hips, massaging his cock with her slick pussy. She continued her path downward, kissing every inch of his skin. Reaching his cock she took him gently in her hands. She brought her lips softly to the delicate skin of his head. Adjusting her position she licked, hardly touching, from base to tip. A soft groan of appreciation escaped his lips. The sound sent a shiver down her spine as she opened her mouth to him. Slowly she took his entire length in her throat, deeper than she'd ever dared or wanted to before with any other guy. She held him there for a moment, marveling at the perfect fit. Then she drew her lips back, her tongue tracing the line back to his tip. She slowly worked him in and out, each time drawing him deep. Her fingers stroked his balls, gently massaging him. She had never felt more desperate to please.

She continued her long strokes, gradually building her pace. He felt almost unbelievably hard in her mouth and her hands. She longed to taste his come on her tongue, and as if reading her mind, one long last suck pulled a low groan from him as he filled her mouth. Ivy licked him clean, kissing every inch of his cock, and swallowing every drop of his come. She slithered up his body to kiss him. As his lips meet hers once more, he murmured into her mouth. "God I need to hear you come." She moaned her agreement. He pressed his fingers into her hips, pulling her up his body. She reached out to grasp wall in front her as he positioned her hips above his head, shooting his tongue out to flick it against her clit. A long teasing lick from ass to clit drew a soft moan from her. He slipped his tongue seductively inside of her with enough force to fuck her with it. Her palms lay flat against the wall fingers scratching the plaster as her head dropped and her breathing became raw and heavy. He slightly altered the tilt of her hips, bringing his tongue to her clit again. It was hard and eager for his touch as he slipped it into his mouth, sucking hard, tantalizingly allowing his teeth to brush against her most sensitive spot. More moans forced their way from her lips and she pushed her hips down to meet his mouth.

He built up a rhythm, flicking his tongue as her hips rocked gently. She felt her orgasm nearing. Ivy marveled again at how quickly he brought her to climax, his skills breathtaking. His tongue relentlessly constructed the explosion of pleasure that tore through her body. She threw her head back emitting a rough guttural moan, her lips struggling to form his name. By this time, he was ready for her again. Not allowing her a moment to rest he pushed her back adjusting her hips and with one swift stroke slid himself inside her. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him even closer, even deeper. He moved expertly, rhythmically, fast and hard. Her voice grew hoarse from the moans he constantly forced. His ruthless thrusts pulsed more aching pleasure through her entire body.

Exhausted as she was from the intensity of her climaxes she couldn't help but want to give him the same. She straightened herself and moved on top of him, slowly sinking down, taking him to the hilt. She gently circled her hips and clenched simultaneously. He hissed through his teeth and she threw her head back massaging her breasts with heavy-lidded eyes gazing down as she rode him. She kept a relentless pace, torturing her body, pushing herself far beyond the limits of her endurance. But she could not, would not stop. Continuously thrusting her hips, she kept driving his cock deep inside. Ivy's mind floated into a world where there was only Vic. No one and nothing standing between them. She could only hear his groans and hard breathing even above her own. He was holding back. Although her eyes were closed she felt him watching her intensely, following the path of the beads of sweat coursing down her glistening body, sensing her pain, knowing she needed to do this as she struggled with her guilt. The connection was ethereal Somehow it felt otherworldly for both of them.

He let her continue until her hands dropped and she collapsed onto his chest. Then he let her body sink to the mattress beside him. Looking down at her he took his place again between her legs, soaking with sweat and her juices. He pushed inside her with a couple of hard thrusts before finally allowing himself the sweet release of filling her with his come. Afterward, they lay still holding each other tightly, their sweat and come mingling between their hot bodies. She gulped air into her lungs, her mind far away and fuzzy, but knowing with absolute certainty that this is where she belonged.

Ivy pulled back to look in his eyes holding back her tears of terror and relief. She opened her mouth to speak, but he held a shaking finger to her lips.

"I love you Ivy. Does that scare you? God I love you. It fucking terrifies me. I didn't mean for this to happen…"

"Me too," She whispered "It is happening. I love you. We have to make it work. How?"

He shook his head, "We'll figure it out."

Their eyes held each other in the silence. Her heart beat fast. He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close and held her tightly like he never wanted to let go. She buried her head in his neck and held just as tightly. "I know it's dangerous but I don't care. I don't even care what you are...I can 't..."

"It's almost eleven." Lax said breaking their reverie.

"I should get down there then."

As they started to dress, Ivy gave him smile.

'Ivy, I need to talk to you about something." He said seriously.

She glanced at him almost knowingly, the notebook on her mind. "Okay?"

"Not now, but soon. There's stuff you should know about me…"

Ivy nodded, her face radiating the calm, serene expression he craved.

"Later. We have time." She smiled again and headed to the door.

He stood lookout in the hallway while she made it to the fire escape. Once she was safely outside he sighed. He knew he was risking his life but after what they'd just done there was no way he was gonna stop now. Sex had never been so emotional and spiritually fulfilling. He felt a bond; a connection to Ivy he couldn't explain. Shit he'd told the girl he loved her. And he did.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... ... ... ... .. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Downstairs the party was in full swing. The music was loud as the band was finishing its last song of the set. Several guys were windmilling in the pit others stood around the keg and a few started to line up at Ivy's table. Ivy noticed Vic on the far side of the room drinking a beer. She could see Doug and JC glaring at Vic and talking among themselves but was too far away to know what they were saying. She concentrated on inking the AB brand on the neck of the first guy at her table.

"Damn nigger lover being treated like a guest of honor," Doug complained glaring at Lax's back.

"Aint right." JC agreed.

"Somebody ought to do something about it," Doug complained.

"Yeah.

"I said, someone should do something about it. It should be you since you know he's banging Ivy right?"

"Bullshit."

"They were both gone for an hour and come downstairs from his room, making a big deal of looking like they weren't together. I saw them at the shop last week too. Look at her fucking neck…don't be such a damn idiot JC. Hell, why him, why not you? You were the one after her all these years ain't you pissed?"

JC's fists clenched as he approached Lax from behind.

"Know what I think? I think Vic Bishop is a nigger lover."

"What?" Lax turned quickly toward the insult angrily throwing his cup to the floor.

"I said you're a nigger lover and I know about Ivy."

"You don't know a motherfucking thing!" Lax pushed JC back then swung a hard punch to his face before tackling him to the floor. The brawl began. Ivy stopped work on the guy she was tattooing and had to hold back from going to Vic. Even the raucous music halted as everyone was cheering on the fight. The brawl was escalating further when Gall's booming voice came from upstairs.

"Stop!" What is this crap?"

"Vic's beating the piss out of JC." Doug happily informed their boss.

"Why?"

"JC called Vic a nigger lover."

"Vic in my office. Now!"

Lax squinted at Gall then gave a last look nodding around at the crowd and headed upstairs. He shot a sidelong glance at Ivy, who was carefully watching him.

Lax followed Gall into his office retying the flannel shirt around his waist and straightening his braces. Gall passed the long rectangular meeting table in the center of the room and sat at his desk. Lax stood before him, feeling like a kid in the principles office. Shit, he might have blown the whole thing losing it on JC like that. He tried to keep a calm expression on his face.

"Now, Vic." Gall stroked his handlebar mustache. "Have you been happy here? "

"I've never felt more at home."

"Nothing bothers you?"

"No…nothing, I…" Lax paused. "Honestly Mr. Gall, I wish there wasn't so much competition among the brothers. "

"Competition between the brothers?"

"It just seems that personal power within the group is more important to some than the entire concept of white power."

"You sure about that Vic?"

"Yes, sir I am."

"And what would you do about it if you were in my shoes?"

"If I were in your shoes, I'd make me captain."

"That right? That what you'd do?"

"I can understand why you would put someone else, someone local ahead of me sir."

"Dougie-Dog? That boy's too dumb to lead sheep."

"Sir?"

"I saw the way you beat on JC. I know what he called you, but don't you think that was a bit excessive?"

"I, ah, I snapped. It won't happen again."

"Snapped? Bullshit! You wanted me to see you have what it takes. Someone insults you, you show them what happens. I respect that."

"Thank you, Mr. Gall."

"I got plans Vic. Big plans. The storm is coming. Taken together the minorities make up fifty-three percent of our country now. We're being chased off our land and most good white people don't have a clue. I never thought I'd see the day there'd be a nigger in the White House." Gall shook his head. "A disgrace."

Gall moved toward a map of the United States on the wall. "So the question is what do we do about it Vic? We have chapters in at least seven counties in each of these states. Georgia, Alabama, Kentucky, Pennsylvania and Connecticut. When we launch in Georgia, there will be identical strikes in each one. These attacks will inspire others to stand up and face what's been coming ever since that bastard Lincoln pissed on the constitution."

"That's the reason I came down here."

Gal looked hard at Lax."Are you ready?'

"Fuck yeah, I'm ready."

"Well, I guess I'm gonna say it. Congratulations Vic you are the new captain of the UABA SS. Say it with me now."

"The United Aryan Brothers of America Surville Section." The two men stated in unison.

Gall poured Lax a shot of whiskey. "How does it feel?"

Lax nodded his head. "Good. It feels good. I won't let you down sir."

"Oh and Vic one more thing. I saw you getting close with Ivy Pierce. And I don't put much stock in rumors, but there been talk of you and her…"

"Rumors sir. All it is."

"That's what I thought. Now a man has his needs and I understand that, but we got plenty women around here that are our kind to take care of that. A lot of them are the marrying type. Keeping the race going is important Vic. "

"Yes sir."

"So Ivy does tattoos on my boys, but that's as far as it goes. She ain't one of us and top it off that daddy of hers is a rat. I'll let you in on this. See I have a deal with Ivy. She does what I want and I keep her father out the hat*. He testified against my closest brother, the guy I came up with." Gall bowed his head for a moment. "About ten years ago. My best friend Merle was accused and convicted of burning down a black church with three niggers inside. Harlan Pierce was a witness and the only one who came forward so it went to trial. My buddy, he's on death row all cause of Pierce. So there's a death threat out on old Harlan and I'm the only one standing between that man and his meeting his maker. Me. As long as she does what I say, tattoos and things, her daddy lives. So you can see she's not one of us and her daddy is the worst kind of race traitor. So you tell me the truth now son. Are you involved with Ivy Pierce in any way?"

"No, sir."

"You wouldn't be lying to me boy?"

"No, sir. I don't give a shit about that piece of race traitor ass." Lax said the words feeling his gut clench.

"Good. Well, you go on down and get your brand now son." Gall slapped Lax on the back. "You know I got a niece I'd like for you to meet. Heidi. She's a good Aryan stock type of woman be perfect for a captain of the Brotherhood like you."


	8. Take Warning

_New York City_

"What are you saying?"

"Nothing. Forget it, I shouldn't have gone there. I said too much. " She shook her head and stepped away from him.

"You can't drop something like that and then not finish. What happened to you Ivy?"

"After you left…"

"They put the motherfuckers in prison right?" Lax interrupted. "You were safe. I asked my handler, he told me all Gall's guys were locked up."

She shook her head. "Gall was locked up."

"Shit. What are you saying?"

"I thought I knew those guys..." her voice trailed off.

"What happened Ivy?"

"You left. I didn't. The Brotherhood was pissed. They needed to get payback. Put it together."

She turned to her work table and busied herself by flipping through her sketchbook. She'd said too much. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Was it supposed to happen at all? She wondered. She switched gears completely throwing Lax off when she went on "You know I'll need more time for this piece. I have to draw it up before I start. Do you wanna get a drink with me?"

Lax looked at his watch.

"Unless you have an appointment…"

"No, but I 'm supposed to get a flight to Iowa later tonight, for a story."

She nodded. "Why don't you call me when you get back. I'll do the tattoo then. And... we can talk more." She twisted her mane of crimson hair into a knot on top of her head and secured it with two colored pencils. Lax restrained himself from leaning over and kissing her exposed neck. His mouth yearned to return that familiar spot she loved him to kiss.

"Ivy why are you so…cryptic?"

"Because it's not easy to talk about. I never thought I'd see you again." She swallowed hard and tilted her head. "I never wanted to see you again."

"Want and need are two different things."

Her eyes widened. He couldn't leave her. Not now. Not yet. Isa crossed his mind as well as the story. "So how about that drink?"

... ... .. .. ... .. .. ... .. ... ... .. .. .. ... .. .. .. .. ... .. ... .. ... ... .

Georgia

Lax took in Gall's words and felt a stab of regret pierce his adrenaline high when Ivy's name had come up. Gall specifically told him to stay away from her. He was so close now...this was why he'd come down here in the first place. Ivy was... Ivy was a complication. He cleared his throat. "Um sir, " he said and looked back at Gall's desk. "Since I'm your captain maybe there's some more you want to tell me about these strikes.'

Gall's eyes lit up. "Now?"

"I mean I can get a tattoo any time. But this …this is important. "

"See there you go. That's what I like to hear. C'mon I got something to show you." Lax followed him back to his desk. Gall took out a black binder and handed it to Lax. "That right there is everything."

Lax looked at the Grail in his hands. This was it. This was everything he needed to take the motherfuckers down. But Ivy, she could get hurt. She could get him hurt.

…. … .. … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … ..

Ivy began packing up her equipment, still scanning for Vic. He hadn't come down from Gall's office yet. She wanted to see him before she left. She slowly put plastic bottles of ink and her tattoo machines into her case, stalling. After a half hour, she decided to leave despite being worried about him. Why hadn't he come back? Had someone seen them? Was he in trouble? She felt her stomach flip with anxiety because she had no way to find out if Vic was okay.

She'd go to the diner tomorrow.

Driving back over the bridge on her way home she was filled with a warmth she'd never experienced before. Vic had told her he loved her. She felt the same. It might seem soon, but there was an undeniable connection she couldn't explain. They belonged together they just fit. It scared her though because even though she'd found that notebook, she wasn't sure what it meant. It wasn't proof that he wasn't one of them until she heard it from him. Still he was confident and reassuring when he said they'd figure it out. He had something to tell her.

She pulled into her driveway around 3 am. The night was beautiful. The sky clear, stars bright around a crescent moon. She lay down on the front lawn the lush grass a feather bed and gazed up at the sky. Like she did as a little girl. She'd come outside in the middle of the night and lay on the grass sometimes watching the sun rise taking the day shift from the moon as it retired for the night. The sky looked different in Georgia than New York. It seemed closer to the earth and had more rich darkness. She closed her eyes and remembered Vic's touch, renewed his words.

She turned her head to the side and opened her eyes. She was eye level with a pair black steel toed boots with red laces. She flicked her glance up Vic's body standing beside her.

"You're here."

He sat beside her, pulling his knees up.

"You're okay? When you didn't come back down I couldn't help it, I was worried." She played with the chain dangling from his belt attached the wallet in his back pocket. The steel was cold and heavy as it slid through her fingers.

"I'm fine."

"C'mon in." Ivy offered sitting up and taking his hand.

He shook his head.

"Why not? It's okay, my dad sleeps like a rock." She began to run her hand up his thigh. He moved it from his leg.

She tsk'd and moved in for a kiss.

"Ivy stop."

He was silent for a few seconds. Lax felt sick to his stomach noticing her face tense up and become suspicious. The entire walk over here he'd been filled with dread. He had to break her heart and it was killing him.

"Gall made me captain tonight. Do you know what that means?"

"I think so…"

"I rank now. I can't be with someone who isn't involved in the movement. I can't see you anymore Ivy. I could get you killed."

"But.."

"Gall made it clear. He specifically told me to stay away from you. I know about your father too. "

'What the hell…?'

Her heart began to race from the fear and dread she felt. She stared over at him and protested. "No, we are gonna figure this out. We can make it work. You said that. You told me we'd figure it out. "

"I'm sorry Ivy."

"No, help me. Help me figure out a way…"

He looked away.

"You said you loved me! That was a lie?"

Lax was silent. "I shouldn't have said it."

"But you did…"

"It was the heat of the moment…what can I say, I got carried away."

"Fuck you you bastard!" Ivy threw a punch at him. Lax ducked just in time. "I trusted you…I thought you were different. I…" Her voice got louder and she moved toward him punching his chest until he grabbed her wrists struggling to keep her still. "Ivy, shh.. c'mon ….stop…"

She leaned back willing no tears to fall.

"I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry."

"Answer my questions and tell me the truth. Am I just a piece of pussy for you? Or am I...?

"No." It was another one of Vic's short, one-word answers. There was a bit more silence. "You're..." He paused. It appeared that he was trying to come up with the proper words. "Ivy you're more than that to me."

She wanted to see if there was sincerity in his eyes. She stared at his face and believed she saw a man that was serious, at the moment. "Then why are you doing this? I know..." she licked her lips and sighed as if that would calm frayed nerves. She clasped his left wrist gently. "I know that just because we fucked that it doesn't have to mean that we're in a relationship. I just…well I thought I thought there was feeling, a connection. You felt it too I know you did. You said…"

Goddamn, she was making this hard harder than he thought it would be.

"What I am trying to say is that I hope that you don't see me as just a fuck. You didn't act that way before."

"You were right in the beginning. We are on different sides. I shouldn't have pushed you into this. I'm trying to protect you Ivy."

"I don't care. I told you It doesn't matter… "

"Well, it should!" He raised his voice in frustration. "I respect you. I know, judging from tonight, you probably don't believe me. But I do respect you and I never should have led you on like this. I can't be with you. It's too fucking dangerous."

"So you don't love me? "

He winced, his eyes becoming slits.

"Say it! Tell me you don't love me. Tell me what we have, what we did, means nothing to you."

"I don't love you Ivy. I said what I thought you wanted to hear. You don't mean anything to me. You are a...race traitor." He managed to get the vile words out. The shock on Ivy's face was almost enough to break him, he wanted to tell her the truth.

"Fine. Go. I never wanna see your fucking face again. You are just like them like all of them aren't you? I was so stupid..." her tears began despite her best efforts to withhold them. That fucking notebook probably doesn't belong to him after all.

He hesitated. She thought he was going to say something but instead, he got up and walked away. He didn't look back so Ivy didn't see him blinking away his own tears. Lax felt emptiness creeping in with every step he took further away from her. He felt cold despite the sticky humid air. He was alone. He breathed in deeply to compose himself. He was mercenary on a mission. He had to keep Ivy safe.

…. …. … … .. .. … .. … .. … … .. … … … … .. … … … … … … .. ..

Lax leaned over and refilled his FBI contact's iced tea. He began to wipe the table down to look inconspicuous as he spoke. "Every black, Hispanic , Asian, Indian and Jew in the state. This is it. They're looking to start a war. Gall expects sixty-seven percent of the other hate groups in the United States alone to launch similar strikes."

"So what are you telling me?"

"I have access to the documents you need with the right signatures to put the bastard away before he does it.'

"You are aware of the risk you would be taking by supplying said documents?" The agent asked seriously.

"What's the worst that happens? I die?" Lax asked with a shrug. "We all got to do it sometime, might as well do it right. Right?"

"There are worse things in this world than dying."

"It's worth it to me to find out."

"Why?" The agent asked.

"I have my reasons."

"Whats the time frame for delivery?"

"Two weeks. Just two more weeks." Lax said relieved it was almost over.

... ... .. .. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

It had been over a month since Ivy had seen Vic. After the night, he rejected her she avoided the diner and pretty much the whole town. Home and the tattoo shop became the extent of her world. The burn of rejection was not fading as fast she'd like. She kept looking at the notebook, wondering exactly what it meant.

"Ivy, I was just with Carl Daggett. He told me something." Harlan entered the kitchen where Ivy was finishing the grocery list. "A tragedy occurred over the bridge this afternoon which left a young man dead. A young African American boy. The tragedy stems from an ugly hate crime. The perpetrators were a gang of Neo-Nazi Skin Heads. Gall's men Ivy."

Ivy turned her head so quickly that a sharp pain burst in the tendon. She turned her attention to her father. Her pen fell from her hands and clattered on the tile floor. She had an out of body' experience, as clichéd as it sounds. She didn't feel normal. Her hands and feet tingled. There was a tennis ball-sized lump wedged into her throat. Everything appeared to slow down. She stared into the knowing eyes of her father. The notion that someone's twelve-year-old baby was slain and left in the middle of the street entered her mind. She began to wonder about his parents. Then all she could think about was that Vic was involved with the crime. She hadn't had contact with him for weeks. Not since that night. Maybe it was for the best. But was he really part of this…

"Of course it can't be proven, no witnesses will come forward. But it has all the signs."

"It's getting bad again isn't daddy?"

"Yes. I believe so."

… … … .. … … … … … … … … … … .. … … … … .. ..

Later that night, Ivy fished for her house key in the bottom of her purse. The Pierce's never locked their doors before but with the recent activity by Gall's group her dad insisted they start. Ivy cursed the porch light that had burned out last week. It was at that moment when she first heard it. There was an inhale. A millisecond later, she heard an exhale. It was the sound of someone breathing.

She knew it hadn't come from her. Suddenly, she felt an odd but familiar feeling. A tingling heat. The last time she felt this sensation was over two months ago. Then she felt her body being pulled away from the storm door. Her purse slipped out of her hands. The plastic handles from the shopping bags dug cruelly into the skin of her left wrist. She felt a thick band of strength wrap around her midsection and another band of strength wrap around her collarbone and shoulders. She heard the sound of her keys hit the wooden floorboards of the porch and the storm door slam with a crack against the frame. Finally, she felt her body pulled against a surface that was hard.

As her levels of fear shot up, she followed her basic instinct which was to struggle against this person. She tried to elbow this person's torso, kick his shins with the heels of her boot and tried to stomp down on his toes. But she couldn't move.

There was a raspy groan which was followed by a gasp. The grip became tighter against her torso.

"Ivy."

Her stomach flipped.

"Ivy, please don't scream," His voice sounded softer. It sounded weaker. "No one can know I'm here."

"Vic?" She asked softly.

"Yeah, it's me," he murmured.

"Can you let me go?" she asked him.

"Y-Yeah."

He removed his arms from her torso. She quickly stepped away from him and turned to face him. "You didn't have to do that."

His right arm was pressed against his stomach as his body shook violently.

"What are you doing here?" She asked him trying to remain detached. He'd hurt her, rejected her.

"Can I come in..." His voice trailed off and he started gagging. He turned away from Ivy and leaned on the porch railing. He hunched over the railing and proceeded to vomit.

He continued to vomit while she walked over to stand next to his bent form and placed her hand on his back. She rubbed his solid back muscles as he emptied his stomach. His body trembled under her touch. Once the gagging and heaving stopped, he coughed a few times.

"Vic, have you been drinking?"

"No," he gasped.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Can I come inside?" he inquired again with a steady voice.

"Yeah," she said to him as she removed her hand from his back. "Of course you can come inside." Her resolve to stay neutral was crumbling.

She walked away from Vic and traveled to the back door. She retrieved her purse, keys and the other objects that were on the floor. After unlocking and opening the back door, she stepped inside of the dark kitchen and flipped on the light. She glanced over her right shoulder to stare at him still on the porch, struggling to stand upright. His body trembled as he slowly stood.

Something is wrong.

"Vic?"

"Yeah, I'm coming," His voice was strained.

Oh yeah, something is definitely wrong.

She dropped shopping bags on the floor, by the door and stepped back onto the porch walking to where Vic stood. She placed a supportive hand on his back and her other hand on his left wrist. She felt him tense up.

"Hey," she stroked his cheek. "Come on, let me help you," she told him before slipping her head in between his arm and ribs. In this position, she smelled the scent of blood and metal on him. It caused her stomach to turn with nausea. He finally started to relax under her hands. Ivy led him inside. She continued to hold him and to gently guide him upstairs to her room. He sat on the bed. He looked completely shell-shocked.

"What's wrong?" I haven't seen you in weeks, over a month and you show up like this…"

"Ivy, he was screaming… the kid he..the screams were...and he looked me in the eye... " As Vic rambled the muscles in her stomach painfully tightened while her throat constricted. A clammy chill clung to her skin. She was filled with dread. He was there.

"Vic what's wrong. What did you do?"

"Call me Lax. Please, Ivy." His hoarse voice cracked. "My name is Louis Anthony Xavier Morales."


	9. Blood In Blood Out

"Well looky what we got here." Doug smiled. "How you doing buddy?"

Lax surveyed the black teenager they had cornered in the alley. The fear in the kid's eyes reaching into his soul. He stepped back as the rest of the gang moved in on the child like a pack of wild dogs.

"Hey Vic, come over here."

Lax cleared his throat and moved beside the other man. Doug motioned to JC, who held out a baseball bat.

"Beat the boy," Doug commanded.

"Not in the mood."

"Your loyalty is under question Vic. Or should I say Captain." Doug sneered.

Lax continued to hesitate.

"Now you beat this boy or its gonna be your Yankee ass tied up on the ground and that's the God's honest truth," Doug added.

After a moment, Lax took the bat as JC smiled viciously.

... ... ... .. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. .. . ..

Lax settled into Ivy's embrace. She gently stroked his back as he leaned his head on her chest. His shaking began to subside as her touch penetrated him.

"I'm not who you think I am." He absently tugged the hem of her short kilt against her thigh.

"No, you're exactly who I think you are."

He moved back to regard her expression. "I am undercover. The whole thing is a setup."

"You're a cop?"

He shook his head. " A journalist. The FBI recruited me. My mission is to gain Gall's trust so I can learn what he's planning."

"I knew you couldn't be one of them."

"I'm still on your side, Ivy. I always have been. I am sorry that I didn't tell you the truth before but it was the safest way." He took a breath. "Look, my orders are to embed myself. Learn what Gall's plan is and even assist him when needed."

She turned and pulled a small spiral notebook from her purse on the floor by the bed. "Yours I assume?"

He took it and shot her a nervous glance. "Where did you…"

"In the parking lot of the shop, the night we...the first time you fucked me." She looked down and let her hair cover her face.

"You had it? I thought I lost it or that the wrong person found it…"

"Aren't you supposed to eat that kind of evidence."

Neither laughed at her poor attempt at a joke.

"Vi...Lax I mean, my dad told me about a kid getting killed over the bridge today. You were there, weren't you? That's what you were talking about."

Lax swallowed hard and nodded. "I was part of it."

"You had to don't you?"

He flashed his eyes up at her.

"They would have killed you. They were testing you. You had to pass. Life or death."

"But Ivy the kid is dead…because of me…"

"I understand why you did it."

"I can't believe I was capable of… I feel sick...sick to my stomach."

"We do some pretty fucked up things when it comes to self-preservation. Besides if you bring Gall down think of how many kids you are keeping alive."

The greater good. He thought she got that.

Lax was torn. He was both impressed and disturbed by her matter of fact analysis of his participation in the murder. But that was Ivy; she knew how to soothe him.

"I'm not saying its right that a boy is dead...but there was no other way out for you."

He contemplated her placid expression. Her face was open, waiting for him to go on. He shrugged and winced so she couldn't help adding. "They'll kill you if they find out."

He shook his head. "We all have to die sometime."

"I…don't want you to die."

"Before I met you, It didn't matter so much." He nodded and stared hard at her. "Now...man...you're not supposed to know. You were not supposed to happen to me."

"Heard that one before." She smiled slightly.

"Its like I just can't stay away."

"I know. I can keep your secret."

"Even so, Ivy, what Gall is planning is bad for everyone in the country. I've never seen anyone so filled with hate. I am putting you in danger."

"Then, get out of there. Why are you taking this huge risk anyway? Getting chummy with those psychos?"

"Because I couldn't save my sister or my dad."

"What?"

"Look my last name is Morales. My dad, he was Mexican. He was killed by a hate group when I was a teenager. My sister was with him. " He stood and turned away from her.

Lax realized he'd never told anyone about his past but Ivy. Even Isa hadn't heard the story.

"I'm sorry about your family."

He nodded.

She waited, but he didn't seem to want to reveal anything more at the moment so she approached cautiously and gently placed her hands on his hips. She wasn't sure if he wanted this, not sure if he'd let her touch him. Her hands glided softly up his body under the braces to his ribs, across his chest, down his stomach finally resting on his belt buckle. All the while she looked up into his face under her eyelashes, the question in her eyes 'will you let me?'

He reached up with one hand and brushed the hair from her face. He was trying so hard to push her away. He wanted to walk away from her and do the right thing for her safety, but his body had been deprived of Ivy's comfort and assurance. It was selfish he knew, but this was why he'd come here wasn't it? He didn't want her to stop touching him. He needed her to heal him. She pressed herself against him placed her ear on his heart. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, his lips found her forehead and his heartbeat quickened under her ear as thoughts of her next move flooded his mind.

He cupped her chin and lifted her face up so she'd scrutinize his eyes and the intense need that melted her. His gaze dropped to her lips and he leaned forward. When their lips met his breath caught in his chest feeling such tenderness, passion, and natural sensuality in her kiss. Languidly his tongue slipped out to taste hers. Her hand tightened on his back gripping him closer as her own tongue snaked out to meet his.

Her awareness of Lax overwhelmed all her senses. He tasted faintly of peppermint. She heard his soft guttural, sandy moans and she felt one of his hands tangled in her hair while the other rested on her waist holding her tightly to him. She opened her eyes to look in his face seeing his lust. She smelled his musky scent slightly sweaty and spicy. She closed her eyes again lost in him.

Sighing, she pulled away resting her forehead on his shoulder. They both knew he needed this. He moved her away just enough for her look up at him and all he said was "Please."

Ivy nodded slowly, her eyes telling him he's safe, he's home with her. "Let me." She pulled his t-shirt up and off and then unbuckled his belt.

With her cheek still pressed to his chest, she began to caress him and he sensed in her that the mood had changed. She explored all that was exposed to her, sliding her hands across his solid slightly sweaty chest, her touch ethereal. His skin burned beneath her fingertips. He closed his eyes and just let her walk him backward to her bed and lay him down. She knelt before him and unlaced his boots removing each one slowly almost reverently. When she pushed her soft hand beneath the waistline of his open jeans then boxers, he moaned loudly. She stopped, raised her head and whispered "Should I leave you alone?"

"Touch me Ivy." He didn't want her to stop, his body craved her and he was already hard as a rock. She positioned herself back down on his chest her hand dormant on his stomach, but he felt her mouth pressed against his ribs a few inches away from his right nipple. As she moved down his body trailing her warm wet lips towards his hips, he stretched his arms back behind his head his biceps bulging as he grabbed onto the bars of the bed. She forcefully grasped his inner thigh pulling it towards her as she planted her mouth firmly in the dip of his hip bone. He felt his dick pulsing and he involuntarily moved his hips towards her mouth searching for warmth; searching for wetness. She complied with the implications of his bucking pelvis and pulled him out of jeans and boxers immediately licking the head of his dick. His entire body tensed with pleasure as she ran her tongue up and down his length. He then felt her tongue on his balls. With the wetness she left on his cock, she stroked him with one hand tightly while she sucked his balls into her mouth. Knowing what he really wanted, she moved back up to take his entire length between her lips. She swallowed him in so far she almost choked herself. Lax tasted blood in his mouth suddenly realizing he'd been biting the hell out of his lip. He could explode in her mouth at any moment, but he didn't want it to end there. He hadn't even touched her yet. His legs moved back and forth across the bed reveling in the feeling of her ability with her hand at his base stroking up and over the crown then and back down again, followed by her mouth.

After a moment, she gave more attention with her hand and placed her lips underneath his navel but when she glanced up at him he pulled her face to his and shoved his tongue down her throat. He started to feel the telltale cramping in his stomach and so he moved her off and pulled up her shirt to expose her breasts. Sucking them into his mouth one at a time he roughly shoved her plaid mini skirt up and pulled her panties aside plunging two fingers into her pussy. She was tight and more importantly she was wet making his dick harden even more knowing it was because of him. He brought his lips to hers again to tongue fuck her as he fingered her clit. He whispered "I want you... I want you so bad..." and before she could answer he moved down and pressed his mouth against her clit. He skipped kissing her thighs and all the artful shit; she made him horny as hell and her moans were driving him crazy. He shoved his tongue up inside of her, Ivy's groans indicating she was there but before she could finish coming he was on top of her, shoving her knee back and guiding himself inside her. Her body quaked again as he thrust all the way in and the contracting of her muscles almost drew his orgasm out. Holding onto it, he began to rock against her, in and out of her fleshy walls so warm, so wet and so good. Her fingernails found his thigh and she dug in as if holding on for dear life pulling him against her even harder as he plunged in deep.

"Shit, you feel so good..."

"Tell me how good..." he commanded shoving into her so hard he knocked the breath out of her as she tried to answer. "Huh? How good..." He asked his voice lower and coarser than she'd ever heard.

Breathless, she whispered "So damn good, don't stop... don't ever stop."

He watched her face twist with ecstasy and moved her so both of her legs were on one side of him, her pretty ass there for him to squeeze and rub. He smacked it to get a squeal out of her then felt his orgasm coming so fiercely it burned in his gut. This one hurt but felt so damn good at the same time he had to let it go.

"Damn... shit, I'm gonna come..." He groaned into the side of her neck as her fingernails dug deeper, her muscles clenching him tighter. With one hand on each hip, he held her steady plunging into her one last time, expending all of his seed within her. A few aftershocks hit him as he felt the sweat dripping from his forehead. With his eyes still closed, his arms shaky as hell and his body so gloriously tired he fell on top of her. Ivy whispered words he couldn't make out as she kissed his face and ran her hands up and down his back, panting in his ear. After they caught their breath, Lax pulled his jeans back on while Ivy wiggled into his t-shirt over her panties.

"C'mon." Ivy motioned for him to follow her as she climbed through her window to the roof to take in the night air.

They sat their backs against the side of the house. Lax lit a cigarette and stretched his legs out.

"I love sitting up here. It feels closer to moon, closer to the stars. See that tree?"

He nodded.

"I used to sneak out of the house when I was a teenager. Climb right down the branches. I gave my daddy hell I really did." She laughed.

"I bet you did. You're a rebel huh?"

"But art, art turned me around. Drawing and tattooing. Seems so long ago now, being a kid."

After a few deep drags on his cigarette, Lax began "You get to the point where they push you too far and you have to shove back."

She looked over waiting for him to go on.

"Especially as a kid, you know you can only take so much of it. Having the last name Morales in the white bread town I grew up in, put a target on my back my whole life. Plus I was quiet, you know a loner. Loved books. Put it all together a bully's wet dream, right? I spent every day avoiding them, especially this one guy. I remember the time I'd had it. It was the last day of school, I must have been 14. I made my way down the hall with my big stack of books and stuff. Nick, his name was Nick showed up in the middle of the hallway ahead of me. He called me a dirty spic and shoved me hard. I fell backwards, books and papers went flying everywhere. My feet slipped out from under me the floor was slick and I fell on my ass hard. A painful jolt went through my whole body. My ears were ringing for a second, it hurt so bad. I looked up to see Nick standing over me. Everyone around me was looking down at me and laughing. Some other kid's lunchbox was lying next to me on the floor. The old fashioned metal kind. I grabbed it and swung it hard at Nick's legs. It hit his left knee and his leg buckled and he leaned down, grabbing his knee swearing like a motherfucker. I got up and grabbed the collar of his shirt then balled up my other fist and popped him a good one right on his big redneck nose." Lax chuckled. "I yelled stop picking on me or something like and kept hitting him. His nose was bleeding. I lost it I really did; I nailed him square on the nose again as hard as I could. He fell backward on the floor, everybody stepping back away from him like he was some kind of toxic chemical spilling across the hallway floor. You just get pushed too far and you strike back." He took another drag and blew smoke out of his mouth and nose thoughtfully. "So yeah, being a Morales wasn't easy. It was just me my dad and my sister. There was a group in my town, Aryans, Just like Gall's."

Ivy gasped.

"Yeah I know what Surville is. I lived it too. My dad owned a garage, he was a mechanic and his shop happened to be right on the line between the white neighborhood and ours. The proverbial wrong side of the tracks. He was doing good business though and that's what made him a target. One night he and my older sister Johnette were there working late; she kept the books for him. The damn Aryans burned the place down with my dad and sister trapped inside. The fuckers chained the doors, chained the doors from the outside. They made sure the fire department didn't get the call until it was too late. Couldn't prove anything of course so it was officially an accident. I was sixteen. After that, I lived with relatives, kinda got shuffled around until I was eighteen then I moved to New York and studied journalism in night school. I have to do this. Bring Gall down."

Ivy nodded. " A noble quest," she murmured.

"My FBI handler asked me if this was personal and at the time I told him no. But It is. Now more than ever."

They crawled back in through her window and Ivy flopped down on her bed.

"Are you afraid?" He asked her.

She shook her head. "But I know I should be."

He sat up and straddled her thighs. She unashamedly stared up at his physique. Her eyes briefly stared at the swastika tattoo that she had inked on his left pectoral. She took in his defined chest and shoulders. Lax silently gazed down at her and after a minute of his appraisal, she became uneasy. Suddenly he ended the silence.

"I always thought you were strong," He stated before laying his body on top of hers. "And don't worry, we can make this work. Can't go back now. I'll protect you. I couldn't protect my sister, but I won't let anybody hurt you."

"I trust you.'

At the touch of his lips, she immediately felt relief as if a heavy burden was lifted from her shoulders. This moment, laying here with Lax knowing the truth about him felt like a fantasy. Now, it was a part of her reality.

"Strong enough?"

He nodded. "You know how dangerous it is though. I still have work to do with them."

She nodded. "I don't care. We'll be careful."

"I lied before." He stated.

"Well yeah, you hid your identity."

"Not just about that. I lied when I said I didn't love you."

Please don't let this be a fucking dream she silently hoped, as he kissed her again.

…. …. … ….. ….

The next morning Ivy woke and knew it wasn't a dream. She was entangled in Lax's arms. his leg draped heavily over her thighs. She smiled and bit his shoulder lightly.

He opened his eyes squinting at the light and smiled back.

"You have somewhere to be this morning?" She asked.

"Technically I should head back to the warehouse. Don't want any suspicion especially after yesterday…" His voice trailed off.

"Well later then. Can you meet me? There's somewhere I wanna take you."

He nodded, curious.


	10. I Never, Ever Stopped Loving You

_New York City Present Day_

Just a drink. They eventually arrived at a small bar a few blocks away from Altar. Lax immediately felt comfortable in the small, dimly lit establishment. It was the type of dive that made him feel at home. Ivy was immediately greeted by the veteran bartender, an old punk rocker, Johnnie Thunders look-alike whose major life accomplishment was figuring out how to only work 18 hours a week for the past fifteen years. Lax noticed sharpie-graffiti scrawled on every visible surface. It was the type of place where the bathrooms are so disgusting it's almost admirable and where the cheapest beer is always the most popular. For most of his drinking years, he'd preferred these types of bars, romanticized their applied shittiness. He felt he belonged here not in the more bourgeois watering holes Isa brought him to now. The Ramones blared from the jukebox and the smell of stale beer permeated the air. There were pretty, slightly older waitresses with intimidating tattoos and the surly bouncers who would only deem to act like they remembered you after your 100th visit. But Ivy was like a member of their family, warmly welcomed by everyone. The place was far from uptight and stuffy.

"I used to work here while I was getting started with my tattooing in the city." She explained when he commented on her having so many 'fans'. Lax understood why she was so loved. Her way of caring and settling everyone around her had not changed.

Ivy ordered beer on tap for both of them. Lax nodded at the bartender "add two shots of Jack." She smiled and led him to a small dimly lit table towards the back.

"Thanks, Kat," Ivy said as the dark-haired heavily tattooed waitress placed their drinks in front of them.

"Hey Ivy," Kat fished a piece of paper from the pocket of her pink checkered vintage apron she wore over black skinny jeans. "I was thinking this for my appointment next week."

Ivy studied the drawing of an American traditional style gypsy and rose and said "Definitely. I can work with this. It'll be gorgeous sweetie. And healed in time for your burlesque show."

"Cool! You are the best Ives." Kat grinned as she walked back to the bar.

"What?" Ivy asked tilting her head as Lax stared.

Lax shrugged. "You're just so...you."

As Ivy sipped, her beer Lax couldn't help but think if Isa again. She never drank beer always white wine. She worried about calories and looking TV perfect.

A few times Ivy tried to speak. It was clear that she was attempting to make an apology of some sort, although only a few words came out and many of them were inaudible. Whenever she began to speak, Lax gave her hand a squeeze and simply said "I'm here." She became silent.

Whatever she wanted to tell him, it wasn't important yet. He had found her again, that's what mattered.

Eventually, she began to relax and breathe normally.

Lax had a better chance to examine her as she sat across from him. Ivy had lost weight. He noticed new tattoos on her hands and above the neckline of her t-shirt that hadn't been there before. In place of the shoulder length, dark brown waves she had in Georgia was a cascading fiery red mane. But she was beautiful still, her eyes elaborately made up in black liner, shadow and mascara making then even larger; they still bore into him with heated knowledge.

Without being able to stop the thought, he wondered how someone so could look so vulnerable and yet so fuckable at the same time. He dismissed the notion as quickly as he could.

Not knowing why, Lax began to lightly trace his fingertips along her tattoos, following the patterns with his fingers. The words Love and Pain were lettered on her knuckles. She closed her eyes for a moment then stared at him as he continued to trace the art on her body. The music was loud so they had to lean in close over the table to hear each other.

"Talk to me Ivy. Please. I need to know."

"Lax, I'm sorry." She pulled her hands back. "I know that I'm not who I was...not anymore. What they did it… changed me…"

_Georgia 2 years earlier:_

_Ivy dropped her bags as a hand covered her mouth from behind and applied very sticky duct tape which completely muffled her squeal of shock. Another arm grabbed her simultaneously by the waist, also from behind preventing her from moving. The attack was firm and rapid. A blindfold went over her eyes without the hands of her attacker moving from her mouth and waist. She thought her heart was going to beat out of her heaving chest as she suspected instantly that there must have been more than one man. Resistance was proving futile as her movement was restricted with comparable ease by her much stronger assailants' powerful arm-hold as she was bundled into a car._

_Tap Out, drop out, snitch, rat, mudshark._

_As Ivy lay bound and blindfolded in the back seat, she heard the insults they were tossing around about Vic. Lax …_

_"Get her inside!" Commanded a male voice as she was carried into an unknown building._

_God help me, she thought. Fucking Doug. She couldn't see, she couldn't scream for help and very quickly, she was becoming completely unable to fight off this attack. Her hands were held at the wrists and she could feel her arms were roughly bound at her elbows behind her back. Now on her feet, she started to violently thrash against him trying to break free._

_"You're gonna hurt yourself if you keep movin' like that," Moose added removing the blindfold. Ivy looked around to see she was in some sort of locker room. She realized they had taken her to the abandoned YMCA on the edge of town._

_"Doug!" She screamed, but it was smothered due to the tape was covering her mouth._

_"What?" he said, nonchalantly as if they were having an ordinary conversation. "You wanna say something to me?" He tore the tape from her mouth harshly then wrapped his hands around her neck. She knew that if she screamed, he would put the tape back on her mouth._

_"Why aren't you in jail?"_

_"Ever hear of bail, bitch? Only Gall is being held without it. The rest of us are out now and ready to handle shit."_

_"What are you doing ?" She tried to hide her fear. After the shitstorm of the past few days, the arrests, the raid she had a feeling he was taking out his rage on her. She was the shit they were dealing with._

_"What am I doing? I think you know that answer to that question."_

_"What?" She stuttered._

_"Or you could ask your boy Vic. Oh, wait what's that? He's gone. Yeah, that race traitor piece of shit took off with his FBI buddies. Leaving you to pay. You're all alone Ivy...all alone no one to come save you now." He sneered the last sentence._

_He untied her and stood back for a minute, a true predatory grin on his face. "Wanna run? Go 'head I like a chase."_

_"Pay? What the fuck…" Ivy rubbed her wrists, still thinking she could talk him out of whatever plans he had for her. She looked at Moose. "Are you okay with this?"_

_Before the other man could answer Doug grabbed her and slammed her into a rusted metal locker. "Don't fucking talk to him."_

_Ivy pressed her cheek into the cold steel of the locker door trying to stay calm. "Let me go Doug."_

_"What, you think your traitor ass boyfriend can come in here take everything away from us and think that no one was going to do something?" At that moment, he pressed his groin against her lower back and she felt a hard, large bulge._

_Oh God, he is going to rape me. She stammered, "Get the fuck off of me."_

_At that moment, she wished that she had the ability to disappear but that was not an option so she began to struggle again, but he was too goddamned strong. His grip on her neck became tighter and his other arm clamped harshly around her midsection._

_"I thought you were done with the moving thing, Ivy," he growled into her ear. Both of his grips had become tighter and Ivy felt the air from her lungs forced out of her body suffocating her._

_"Doug please let me go." Her voice shook with fear._

_"What?" he said, in a not-so-subtle smart ass kind of way._

_"I can't breathe." She rasped._

_"Do you want me to stop?"_

_"Yes, please," she pleaded hoarsely._

_"You gonna quit the struggling bullshit?" Doug asked, as his grip tightened on her neck._

_Her face was beginning to feel numb, due to the loss of circulation. A series of images popped into her head. An image of her corpse being ditched into a wooded area, a look of distraught on her father's face and an image of being raped and strangled to death by a crazed Neo-Nazi with shit for brains. Then she realized Lax would never know. That thought caused hot tears to flow._

_"Yeah." She furiously blinked back more tears._

_There was a bit of silence, but his grip remained tight around her neck and Ivy still gasped for precious air. With no warning, he released her throat and her waist entirely. She collapsed onto the tile floor with a sickening thud, but she didn't notice the descent as she was too busy trying regain the ability to breathe. Then Doug grabbed a handful of her thick hair and gathered her into his arms again._

_"No!" She screamed. "Get the fuck off of me!" Ivy scratched his face._

_He stepped back getting pissed._

_"Doug, listen to me..." Ivy tried to reason with him. "Please, don't do what you're about to do to me. We've know each other for a long time... you know me...please, let me go...you don't have to do this."_

_He walked toward her with a bone-chilling, predatory grin on his face. She watched his hands slip underneath the waistband of his black jeans and pull out the bottom of his tank top. "But I want to."_

_"Oh God, no.."_

_He chuckled, which pissed her off. As frightened as she was the knowledge that he wasn't considering her feelings, that he considered her as a lesser human than he was made her angry._

_"You say 'God' a lot, you know that's blasphemy, right?" Doug's leisurely stroll towards her had come to a halt when there was less than a foot of space between the two of them. Once his hands moved away from his sides, she jumped a few inches away from him. He chuckled again causing Ivy's anger to increase despite her fear. He ended up folding his arms across his chest._

_"Well, thank you, Father Doug, for the fucking theology lesson," She said, sarcastically, feeling her anger bubbling over. "You have two goddamn choices. Let me go or I will escape and I will make sure that your ass will buried underneath a goddamned..."_

_The next thing she knew he had slammed her back into the locker. Once again, he squeezed her throat. Their faces were inches away from each other as he shouted "Listen, you cunt, don't you ever fuckin' tell me what to do, you fuckin' slut. Shut the fuck up!" He half-dragged and halfway carried her to the bench. He pushed her face down and shoved her skirt up_

_"Why?" She stuttered._

_"You are a whore Ivy. You let anybody fuck you. That Yankee traitor. It's my turn now bitch."_

_"Fucking asshole! You racist piece of shit!" Ivy screamed and struggled._

_"You don't know how much you're turning me on right now," he declared._

_"Doug! What the fuck?" JC asked as Moose brought him into the locker room. "You supposed to get her out to the pool now! What the fuck you playing at?"_

_"Jimmy... Jimmy Carl help me, please…" Ivy pleaded. "Don't let him do this. it's me. Ivy."_

_JC's face twisted._

_"Please…" she was crying. Damn it she was still Ivy. What they had planned for her was bad enough, but this? This wasn't what they had decided. Rape was not what they did. _

_"Doug c'mon we're wasting time. Get off her. We gotta go."_

_When Doug didn't move, JC glanced at Moose. He nodded and they pulled Doug from Ivy. Ivy quickly righted herself and tried to run, but JC grabbed her wrist and pinned it behind her back in a tight hold._

_"Sorry, Ivy." He bound her hands behind her back. He shoved her forward to Moose and they dragged her out into the hall, leaving Doug fuming. "Let's get to the damn pool! They all waiting on us!"_

_"We ain't finished boy! JC I'm kick your sorry ass...I'm the captain you best remember that!" Doug raged as he followed them._

_Pool? Ivy wondered. The pool had been empty for years; why were they taking her to an empty swimming pool?_

"Ivy? Ivy what is it?" Lax touched her face bringing her back to him. "Where were you just now?" He tried to smile.

"Remembering."

He raised an eyebrow.

"They brought me to the abandoned YMCA. They threw me down into the empty swimming pool. Then, they released Rommel on me. You know Gall's Rottweiler? He attacked me. Her eyes were somewhere else and her fingers went absently to the scars on her eye and nose.

"I was trapped, the walls were too high I couldn't climb up there was no way out. They were all looking down at me. Every damn member of the brotherhood there, crowded around like it was a show; all standing, yelling for the dog to tear me to pieces."

Pearly razors tore into her flesh, scarlet welling up in the resulting wounds. The animal's tense muscles rippled powerfully and the frothing slobber was flung around in the air like slime as the dog moved its head around with a furious speed. Tearing into the side of ivy's face.

"It would have been so much worse if Sheriff Daggett hadn't shot the dog. He actually did something. I don't know how he knew, but he showed up...just in time. I don't remember much else except being in the emergency room. See those guys…they wouldn't beat up a woman. They have standards. Ha. So they used the dog. He mauled me. They wanted him to kill me."

"Ivy..I..."

'It's affected me in so many ways. I went through a period where I was anxious around dogs. I loved dogs...but after that...and I couldn't be around people I didn't know. Even walking in public with no makeup was impossible for a long time. That's better, but I still dread sleeping. I have nightmares. I came back to New York and getting away made a difference. I fought to get myself back; art helped, but it's still hard sometimes. I find it difficult to have relationships because I think the constant reminders, my moods, all the intrusive thoughts will destroy them." She laughed nervously. "There' s been no one …since… you. Nobody else could understand." She took a sharp breath. "I mean if you even can..."

"I can. Ivy, the only time I can get the kid out of my head…what I did… is with you. The only time it makes sense."

He tried to take her hand, but she pulled back. "You left Lax. You left and…"

"I let that happen, I let them hurt you…I'm sorry. It's my fault."

"No. No that's not what hurt." She shook her head. "You left and you didn't say goodbye. You were just gone."

She finished her beer and motioned to Kat for another round.

She noticed his distress but said nothing. She downed another shot of whiskey.

"It was so complicated after I left Georgia. Ivy I had to disappear almost like witness protection until the trial. I wanted to come back for you, but it would have jeopardized everything we'd worked for. And then, by the time all the convictions went though I couldn't find you. You'd left Surville and...then my book deal happened and...it was a shitty thing of me to do. But...I never, ever stopped loving you."

"What?"

"You heard me. Never."

She gazed knowingly into his eyes, put her hand on his thigh and caressed it gently but firmly. It felt amazing so he quickly started to return the favor. It was exciting as no one knew what they were doing underneath the table. She remembered their kiss from earlier that day. Want and need are two different things.

The alcohol made her bold and her caresses began to become more adventurous and more urgent. Lax stood up from the table and offered her his hand. She took it, looking a little confused. Want and need are two different things.

She quickly lead him toward the back of the bar and out into the alley. Lax pushed her up against the wall and did what he had wanted to since he first walked into the tattoo shop earlier. He kissed her hard and didn't let her stop it like she did earlier. The force of his kiss almost took her breath away. For a moment she was still too caught up in her head, contemplating her confession, their time apart then wondered about how she tasted and felt and ….Ivy's thoughts folded and fell away until she finally lost herself in him. To be honest, she knew this was always a danger; losing herself. She knew that he would always have that power over her. It was something that coiled in her belly as a warning the very first day she laid eyes on him back in Surville two years ago.

He will be my undoing.

In a haze of feeling, Ivy swiftly unbuttoned his shirt to slide her hands over his solid chest covering the swastika with her palm. She dug her nails into the hot skin of his pecs trying to make sure this wasn't just a dream. She tried to make sure her fingers didn't just push through him like a ghost, the same fingers which always ached over how untouchable and unreachable he'd been when she needed him most. She'd dreamed of him in between the nightmares.

It's too soon.

She had never wanted to see him again, but she'd never gotten him out of her head either. She couldn't help but smile against his mouth when she felt the warmth of his skin and his taut muscles reiterating the reality of the situation, He smiled too and groaned "so sexy Ivy…" making her heart race at a dizzying speed.

"I've given up on holding back," he whispered his confession as he stopped for breath, his words almost moans, hanging heavily between them before his lips came crashing against hers again.

It's not too soon.

She felt a bit ashamed for the rush of relief she felt at this, but then became quickly distracted by the soft flicker of his tongue against hers. It sent quick surges of electricity and causing the white-hot fire of arousal to pool between her legs with its emergent, needy throbbing.

Beneath it all, she felt the depth of their connection sparking, changing its shape and nature, yes, but she still reveled in it as it undulated around and within them. They drew deeper and closer together.

Looking around to make sure no one else was near he hoarsely pleaded "Ivy.. I need you…"

She nodded.

"Here, now is this okay?"

"I want you so bad." She said softly, touching his face.

He pulled her into the side alley. Satisfied that they were alone and shadowed, he began to undo her pants.

To be honest, part of her didn't know what to do, worried that if she misstepped in some arcane way, that the moment between them would end just as quickly as it started. He would fade back into the realm of fantasy. She didn't want that. She wanted him, so she eased back and let him take the lead and tried her best to simply focus on the journey he was pulling her back into. Want and need are two different things.

She had to admit It felt right, actually, giving herself over to him, to this again. She found herself almost purring as his hands ran up and down the length of her back and his hips lifted to press his growing arousal against her.

She'd never been good at retaining control with Lax, truth be told, so even though it felt dangerous, it just also felt so right.

"I want you," he whispered, pressing the words against the hot flesh beneath his kisses.

She felt him almost trembling and she wondered for a moment if he was as nervous about the situation as she was.

"I'm all yours," Ivy felt strengthened and weekend by him simultaneously.

He pushed her shirt up and pulled her jeans down towards her knees and began to ravenously kiss her inner thighs. She sighed, running a hand through his soft shaggy hair and for a moment she felt a bit cold with the rush of air on her skin. Then he was there again, kissing her, kissing her skin in a hot, lingering trail around her breasts and slowly down her belly.

As soon as his heated breath burned against the moistened crotch of her panties his warm hands delicately spread her legs apart.

He eased down to his knees on the ground and leaned in to nip and kiss her inner thighs. The scruffy beard on his cheeks and chin scraped and chafed the soft skin between her legs almost making her lose her footing.

The curl of his tongue against the silk of her panties drew her attention back and she did her best to resist shoving her fingers into his hair to hold his mouth there. Her clit, hard and bent beneath the fabric, begged for his touch, begged to be pleasured by him.

It felt like ages before he finally hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties to tug them down her legs. He continued the sweet tortuous kissing and nipping around her thighs and belly, teasing with the occasional, fleeting touch between her legs before moving back on to the other surrounding curves and angles of flesh and bone.

The goosebumps spread quickly on her skin and she could barely keep her legs from shaking by this point. It was partly from the cold of the outdoors of course, but as easy as it was to pretend that was the only reason, she know that her aching arousal for him was also contributing to that state.

And I'm sure he knows it too.

Any cold that she felt was quickly quelled by the sweet heat of his tongue swiping against her flesh, this time between her legs, finally with no fabric between. His nose pushed against her as he quickly buried his face hungry and moaning against her most intimate flesh. He possibly wanted to hold back and keep drawing out the teasing but seemed to lose himself in his own desire instead.

"Please don't tease me not now… not now…' She whispered.

Ivy was completely lost to the sensation of it all, lost to the little experimental licks and sucking he used to toy with her until he finally had her so unwound that she was coming against him. She didn't even know as she lost herself in the shock waves of pleasure rolling through her again and again in exquisite pulses against his greedy lips.

There was no reprieve in this satisfaction. There was no rest to the tension that left an ache in her trembling limbs, because he kept at it, kept pleasuring her through her orgasm, just like he used to.

She almost wanted to push his head away, push it away as much as she wanted to draw him closer. It was almost too much. She was breathless, reeling, lost in the sensation until she gasped again, her body arching, as more waves of climax crashed into her. Again and again and again...

Finally he slowed his kisses, moving his mouth to settle on her thigh and pepper it with a light press of his lips and burn of his beard. She felt the grin against her skin before she saw it. While it might seem a bit incongruous, seeing such a self-satisfied smirk on his face, she embraced it because he deserved it. He deserved to revel and feel the proud elation of what he'd done to her.

"You're an evil man," she gasped still coming to amidst her haze of bliss, as he shifted against her.

"I'm not done yet."

As they kissed again, Lax felt her hands unbuckling his belt and pulling down his zipper. His cock was suddenly free, the cool air a bit of a shock. He retrieved a condom stashed in his wallet and she couldn't resist watching as he slowly unrolled the latex down his shaft, hard before her. As cliché as it felt, her heart nearly skipped a beat at his beauty and she wanted him even more intensely. He reached down and hooked her thighs pulling them around his hips. She already felt his hardness lightly brushing up against her, touching the wet, heated flesh between her legs, and she could hardly bear waiting any longer. Still, she breathed in deeply, calming herself, instead focusing on him when he finally shifted to guide himself inside her.

They both groaned at the penetration and paused to revel in how good it felt. He'd pushed in as deeply as he could. His hips pressed tightly against hers and he caressed her legs, helping to move and settle them in a comfortable position around his waist. He looked down with need then began to move slowly against her, drawing himself almost all the way out and then back to the hilt.

What began as slow experimental thrusts soon gave way to harder and faster ones. Although they had wanted to stay at the more languid pace, the desire began to pulse and beg to be satiated and they fell prey to its call.

He yanked her against him as he thrust quickly. She reveled in the sounds he made, husky primal noises from deep within him. He felt unbelievably good back inside her, shifting this way and that as he rediscovered which angles drew out her loudest moans and sighs.

She definitely felt lost in it all, lost in the sensation of flesh slapping against flesh, the pleasure mounting between them both, rising and billowing around them. She loved the way he trembled, surrendering to his own pleasure. She delighted in the pitch of his moans as they got deeper and more clipped as his rutting became more and more erratic. Finally he pressed himself as tightly to her as possible, practically grunting as the spasms of his climax hit him.

Soon his breathing settled, his arched back relaxed and he lowered her legs to the ground. Ivy wasn't sure either of them knew what to say so she waited for him to speak, still a bit worried about the specter of reality showing its head again and ruining it all.

She finally broke the silence. "That...that was..."

"Yeah, it was," He finished, hoping the dangling adjective was as positive as her tone sounded. They adjusted their clothing.

"There's one problem, though."

Lax furrowed his brow, the pit of worry growing in his gut, trying his best to read her schooled expression. And failing.

Here it comes, he thought bracing himself for the This-Was-A-Mistake speech he'd heard from her in far too many bad dreams.

"Problem?"

"Too much has happened. Too much…'

"Fuck that; a lot happened and it's brought us together don't you see that? "

"What I see is that we both needed this. It was… perfect. But…don't you realize we are just reminders of what happened. Whenever we see each other, we'll just be right back there …."

"No that's not what I see. I see myself finally having a chance to stop the nightmares and visions; finally be done with the guilt. Ivy you're the one who saved me then and I know you can save me now."

She looked sad as she answered "But what about me Lax? Who's gonna save me?"

"I thought I…"

"I know you have a flight to catch…that big story right?"

"Ivy, it doesn't matter. I don't have to go. I am not sorry we did this. I want to be with you okay. We are here in New York, we are supposed be together."

"Go... go to your story. Think about what you are saying. Call me when you get back. I'll do that tattoo. And if you still want …this…we'll talk. Think about out it okay? We both need to think right now."

"Let me get you a cab."

When she shook her head saying she'd rather walk, he again noticed how different from Isa she was. She had boots on and liked walking, Isa wore heels and they always had to take cabs.

"Then I'll walk you home before I leave. Let me do that please?"

"Okay." She relented and added "Can you do one other thing for me?"

"Anything."

"Come back this time. Just...come back."


	11. Slipping Around

_Georgia_

The next morning Ivy woke and knew it wasn't a dream. She was entangled in Lax's arms, his leg draped heavily over her thighs. She smiled and bit his shoulder lightly. The tragic events of the previous day had brought them closer together. He'd come to her after the boy was killed.

He opened his eyes squinting at the light and smiled back.

"You have somewhere to be this morning?" She asked.

"Technically I should head back to the warehouse. Don't want any suspicion especially after yesterday…" His voice trailed off.

"Well later then. Can you meet me? There's somewhere I wanna take you."

He nodded, curiously, but he winced. "Ivy...about last night...what I told you...that kid..."

"Lax, you did what you had to do. Remember that."

"You know I need you right?"

After Lax had left, Ivy lay on her bed and gazed at the crack in the ceiling as always. Today the thin line marring the plaster that seemed to go nowhere didn't make her feel hopeless or useless. She felt part of someone, part of something bigger than herself. She also had to admit she savored the feeling of being thoroughly fucked. She felt like she'd had a workout and taken the best antidepressant in the world.

She found him. The person whose smell made everything tingle, tense up and heightened every sense in her body. It was the most invigorating feeling to find someone she was so attracted to, both physically and emotionally. A total high. When she was with him, she wanted to please him, make him smile, touch him and kiss him. When they were apart she yearned for the calm she felt while in his arms. She couldn't ignore the chemistry she had with Lax. They made each other laugh and think.

She showered and dressed, feeling more excited than she had in ages. She pulled on a faded denim mini skirt and black tank top stepped into her boots and took one last look at her face in the mirror. She laughed at herself feeling like a smitten teenager.

The tires of Ivy's black Buick kicked up dust as she pulled over to Lax, waiting by a tree on a back road outside Surville near the highway onramp as they'd planned. He was dressed in his usual attire of jeans, black t-shirt, and docs but wore no braces today.

They drove about thirty minutes until they reached the right turn off and were soon rolling through a small university town. Ivy pointed to the large stone building on Lax's right. "That's the college where my daddy teaches. This is Brandt."

"I had no idea this place was around. Civilization." He let out a breath for dramatic effect.

They parked and stepped out of the car into the heat of the late afternoon. Lax noticed a vintage clothing shop, used record store, and a bookstore. It was like being back in a small corner of the real world.

"Okay are you ready for this?" She playfully took his hand "Best double espresso outside of New York City." Ivy smiled as she led him into to the small coffee shop. Alternate Grind had a ramshackle, bohemian air. As she placed, their order Lax had to give his eyes time to adjust to the shadowed interior. They took a window seat.

"This is like a haven for me." She sighed happily

Lax nodded, understanding completely. He drank in the warm atmosphere. He loved the glow of the mahogany counter, buzz of the espresso machines, whirring of milk steaming, the chatter of the patrons, Billie Holiday singing, the smell of vanilla and coffee.

"So, do you feel kind of normal again?" She asked.

"Real coffee are you kidding? I feel great. " He looked up over his New York times. "And this." He crinkled the newspaper. "I mean I haven't read any real news that isn't filtered through Gall since..."

She smiled.

"What?"

"I knew. I just knew from the first time I met you that you weren't like them…you are smart. You are normal." She laughed.

"Normal? That's relative...I'm glad no one else caught on though…which brings us to….us."

She looked up from her coffee.

"So we need to talk. I mean if this is happening we have to do it safely."

"Like slipping around?"

... ... .. ... .. ... ... .. ... ... .. ... .. .. .. .

Over the next couple of weeks, Lax and Ivy escaped to the little town of Brandt as often as they could. They were free there and didn't have to hide their relationship. They drank coffee, walked arm in arm in public, browsed the shops and talked. Hours and hours of talking. At night back in Surville, Lax would sneak in her bedroom window for the slipping around part. He complained he felt like a teenager but always gave her a smile when he said it. Ivy didn't want her dad to know about them until after Lax's assignment ended.

They managed to make it work and most importantly no one was suspicious about Lax 's cover.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... ... .. .. ... ...

The drive back to Surville from Brandt seemed too brief to Ivy that day and she felt a strange twist in her gut she wasn't sure why. Lax was especially quiet as he gazed out the window smoking, taking in the trees and trucks passing on the highway. She pulled over to the side of the road outside of town. As usual Lax would walk the rest of the way from the secluded spot. A safe place to drop him off unseen. The sun was setting into dusk adding to his cover.

"So that was a nice date." He smiled seeming more relaxed and attentive. "Now I get to kiss you goodnight." He turned slightly and looked at her with his legs apart, that confident smile on his face. His arms opened toward her gesturing for her to lean in and kiss him.

"Hey you," she said and in an instant his strong, warm hands were on her waist and his tongue was in her mouth. That's all it took for Ivy. She felt the butterflies in her stomach and wanted more. Her palms slid under his black t-shirt and their kisses deepened. Slowly but surely her body began to melt until all of her weight was pressed against him. The taste of him made her mind go blank and her juices started to flow. "Fuck...Don't you have to go? You're late already... the meeting with Gall..."

He ignored her words and whispered "Sit on my leg, baby, rub your pussy on my leg."

She loved when he told her what to do.

She moved over to the passenger seat and opened her leg on his lap, slid down slowly, straddled his thighs and kissed him gently.

"That's my girl. That's more like it," he groaned.

She felt his hands grope her hips and round ass. When she arched her back, he instinctively pushed her crotch hard into his thigh. He knew exactly what to do to make her wet. He was playing with her, teasing her, bouncing his leg up and down and she giggled until her breath came in heavy pants when she felt her clit rubbing on his jeans.

His fingers tangled in her hair while he kissed her fiercely. He pulled away and his husky voice whispered hotly in her ear "I want to slide my hand into your panties and finger you so bad."

He was driving her crazy and getting off on it.

"Fuck," She whimpered "I can't take this."

She felt his cock start to swell through his jeans. She wanted to pull up her skirt and ride him until she came which wouldn't take long she was so ready for it. He was such a fucker doing this when he knew he had to go. Lax surprised her when he took his left hand, shoved her panties aside and pushed one finger past the folds of Ivy's pussy. She let out a gasp and pushed her hips down hard into his hand.

"That's it baby," Lax said, "You like it when I finger fuck your pussy don't you?"

All she could do was nod into his heaving chest. As his finger pushed in and out, he turned it upwards finding her g-spot. Her breathing became heavier and her moans louder. Her hips rotated down steadily into his hand as aching heat began to spiral up desperate for release.

"God baby, don't stop," she told him breathlessly, "It feels so fucking good."

Lax heeded her warning and kept rhythmically fingering her. He felt Ivy wetter and warmer which only increased his own arousal. Before long, he felt her pussy clamp down on his finger.

"Oh fuck..." Ivy moaned as she came hard on his skilled fingers. She looked up still panting. Finally calming down she remembered he had to go.

"You are gonna be late...you can't..."

He swallowed her words with his kiss and put her hand on his erection waiting for her behind his belt buckle. She fumbled with it and opened his pants trying to tug them down over his hips. He raised his pelvis to aid her, but the small space made their attempts at intimacy awkward. Lax let out a frustrated groan, grabbed Ivy's arm and pulled her into the back seat with him.

"But you can't stay." She leaned over him locking eyes in the dim light as he pulled his shirt off.

"You telling me to go?" His voice was sandpaper as he moved his hands over her breasts massaging her rock hard nipples, pushing the material of her shirt until she obliged him and removed it.

She shook her head.

"Then touch me. Just fucking touch me." He rasped.

Ivy smiled at him and asked "You really want it tonight, don't you babe?"

Lax responded by looking into her eyes and shaking his head up and down. She reached through Lax's boxers and grabbed his cock with her hand. She looked at him slyly and began to stroke it gently while he leaned back up against the door of the car and relaxed, grunting with pleasure.

"I know how much you like this," Ivy whispered in his ear.

She knew it would drive him crazy if she started talking to him. Her hand softly worked up and down his hard erection, slowly pumping it in a steady rhythm. She took her other hand and lightly began to play with his balls, caressing them carefully. She could feel the pre-cum began to leak out of the tip of his member as she jacked him off and knew he was starting to enjoy himself.

"Not so fast Ives, calm down," he told her sternly, "We're just getting started." She stopped massaging him, just held his cock in her hand and locked eyes with him. She slowly lowered her head down toward his erection but suddenly veered away. She softly sucked on the inside of his right thigh and then his left, before kissing the base of his dick. She ran her tongue all the way up the length of his erection before circling her tongue on the tip of his cock several times. Lax moaned and thrust upward, attempting to force his cock into her mouth but Ivy just smiled.

"God you taste so fucking good."

She saw his dick twitch with excitement at her words, and she could feel herself even wetter between her legs. She teased him in this manner for several minutes, licking his member up and down lightly, but refusing to lower her mouth down onto him.

Finally, she began to slowly lower her head down onto his cock taking all of him deep into her mouth. She bobbed up and down on his erection coating his member in saliva. Lax reached down and began to play with her hair, enjoying the sexy view of his girl sucking him off. He smiled to himself and grunted softly. He could feel the familiar sensation of pleasure rise up from the bottom of his dick as Ivy worked his cock with her warm, wet mouth.

"Shit... you make me feel so fucking good," Lax gasped as Ivy continued bobbing up and down on him.

Ivy felt Lax's dick began to swell in her mouth and she knew he was about to come. She pulled off, looked him in the eyes and said, "Lax I need you to fuck me. Hard."

He quickly climbed on top of her staring deep into her eyes. He tugged her skirt and panties down for her to shimmy them off. He grabbed his dick and ran his head gently up and down her pussy lips, spreading them lightly. Ivy moaned and rolled her hips up eager to take his hard cock into her. Lax couldn't wait any longer and as he slid slowly into Ivy she let out a satisfying gasp. Her hands grabbed his hips and attempted to slide his cock in and out of her cunt faster.

"Fuck me Lax. Make me yours," she moaned at him.

Lax lost it. He thrust into her harder and faster, grunting with satisfaction. He loved making her pussy his, fucking her hard and letting her know that she was his. Lax started thrusting faster making Ivy moan louder. He grabbed her hips and pulled them into him as he thrust forcing her pussy take his cock deeper. Before long, he could feel the heat and pleasure rise up from the base of his dick. He fucked her harder, desperate to release inside her.

"I'm gonna come," he grunted.

Ivy licked her lips and nodded as she felt Lax's cock swell up inside of her wet pussy. "Me too..." she moaned. She could feel him unleash his seed inside her again and again as her own orgasm swelled and she swore she saw stars. Lax grunted and pulled out once he was finished, hugging Ivy tightly into his chest. Ivy curled up on top of him and gave a satisfied sigh.

Finally, they dressed and he admitted. "It's fucking late. I'm gonna get my ass handed to me."

"It was worth it though?" She asked as they climbed out of the back seat.

"Hell yeah." He stood and stretched rolling his shoulders. He smoothed his hair back with his palms. His last words to Ivy were. "I'll be over tonight. Its gonna be different don't worry. This meeting is important. I'll see you soon."

She watched him disappear as the darkness of the road swallowed up his form.

Ivy returned to the car, turned the radio on and tried to compose herself. She wondered briefly what he meant when he'd said things would be different. She headed home already anticipating being with him again later.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... ... ... .. . .. . .. .

"So, if we move when the 'bama boys do, there's no way we won't..." Gall was pointing to his tactical map on the wall gesturing to Lax when commotion and shouting reverberated from the first floor of the warehouse. Shouting, breaking glass and a loud 'FBI! Get the fuck down!' could be heard.

"Vic what the fuck's going on?"

"Looks like the Feds are here." Lax snorted sarcastically.

"Do they have a search warrant?"

"Yes, they do."

"Then don't just stand there, get going Vic! We got to burn them documents." Gall ordered still not grasping the situation.

"Won't do any good. I already gave them the files."

"Why would you do that?"

"I was planning on doing that before I shook your hand for the first time."

You Bullshitting me son?

"No Sean, I 'm proud to say I'm not. "

"All this time..."

"Every godforsaken minute of it."

At that moment, the agents thundered up the stairs and reached the second-floor office.

"You are one slimy bastard Vic. A real rat huh? " Gall said as men in suits started rifling trough his desk.

"Ivy know? Ivy a part of this her and her old man?" Gall gave a look that actually chilled Lax.

"Leave her out of this she has nothing to do with it. And my name's Morales, by the way, Lax Morales. I'm part Mexican. How do feel about that, huh?"

"You can call yourself what you want boy. But there is a reason I trusted you. I saw it in your eyes. Deep down, you know it too."

The noise of more FBI agents storming the warehouse could be heard. An agent placed the cuffs on Gall.

"Goodbye, Sean. I hope you enjoy getting fucked in prison." Lax smiled bitterly.

"Boy, you don't know how it works. I'll be seeing you again. Don't you worry your pretty little head about that? Ivy too, yeah I'll be seeing her again too."

"Lax lunged for Gall but was held back by an officer.

"Oh and Vic, now you got the taste of blood in your mouth there ain't no going back to what you was...brother."

After they had taken the skinheads away. Chuck said, "Ready Lax? The plane leaves in an hour."

"What? I thought I'd have time to sort stuff out here."

"We have to report back immediately that means you too. Besides, don't you a have article to start writing. Hell, this would make a book."

"But I gotta see someone first...I..."

"Not how it works. We can't let you out of our sight. It's how we do it. It's all official. So grab whatever you have here and get in the car we are outta this shithole town."

Lax nodded. He'd call Ivy from the airport to let her know what happened and arrange for her to fly to New York, Washington or he'd come back. It would work out. She'd understand. She knew how important this was. He stopped the race war. As he got pats on the back from the agents, he felt better and adrenaline still surged from his victory. Yeah, he'd call her. She'd understand.

In the whirlwind of the trial, the book deal and Isa's pushing his publicity, Lax would keep putting off that phone call. The longer he put it off, the guiltier he felt and the less sure he was of what to say. As more time passed the worse, he felt. The worse he felt the easier it was to avoid the call. After a while, he even convinced himself she was safer without any contact with him. She was better off without him and the potential threat he posed now. The brotherhood had him on their hit list, probably would forever in some form or another. Ivy was better off without him. His thoughts circled each other in this way until they made sense and he truly believed he was doing right by her.

He loved her enough to stay away.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .

Earlier that evening was the last time Ivy had seen Lax. For the next couple of hours, Surville was the center of a blackout as the raid went down. The FBI moved in on the Brotherhood and turned the town upside down and inside out. She stayed home with her father listening to the sirens and helicopters, watching black sedans move in. It took everything she had to keep her daddy home. He wanted to involve himself and help take down Gall. Ever the crusader. Keeping an eye on Harlan distracted her but all the while Ivy waited, sure that Lax would call to let her know he was okay...let her know what to do. She waited. He never called. The next morning she learned the FBI left. Lax left with them.

. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .

The next month was a blur. After the red and black backlit ultraviolence of the raid and the dog attack came multiple surgeries. She stopped expecting a call from Lax Morales. The physical pain subsided leaving Ivy with the emotional pain of his abandonment. Gone. Lax was gone. He hadn't said goodbye.

The gritty surface of the roof outside her bedroom window dug red pinpoints into her bare thighs, but she hardly noticed. She brought the bottle of Jim Beam to her lips for another searing gulp and hissed as the burn turned to numbness in her belly. Her sigh came out as a sob and she let her head fall loosely on her neck, her face twisting into a grotesque mask of pain. Fuck. Fuck him. Fuck them all.

She fingered the stitches and forming scars on her face. Permanent reminders.

She was done. Out of here. There was no way she was going to put up with this bullshit anymore. People walking all over her, treating her like she was some kind of communal whipping post just because she'd been sleeping with that FBI guy who came in and turned Surville upside-down. The racists named her traitor and the liberals called her a troublemaker who had had rocked the boat, messed with the equilibrium. Either way she felt like a pariah. She didn't belong here.

It would have all been bearable, kind of, as long as she had him to turn to the way he promised her she would.

Jesus, he hadn't said goodbye. She wanted to see it in his eyes. Motherfucker.

"I waited for you...you never came through." She said aloud.

She took another long pull from the bottle and coughed mid-swallow, the burn invading her sinuses and giving her another excuse for the tears streaming down her cheeks. When her eyes finally stopped watering they fell on the horizon, vaguely registering the thin streaks of pink beginning to appear in the clouds. Sunrise. She dug the little silver rectangle out of the pocket of her shorts, the white lining of her pocket coming with it, dropping bits of denim lint onto the glittering shingles. The metal was smooth and warm under her thumb as she ran it over the smooth surface. The Zippo lighter was all she had left of him. He'd forgotten it in her room that night he'd come to her after he was involved in killing that kid. She'd kept it. The top flipped open easily and the heavy smell of butane settled in the back of her throat, but her thumb just caressed the wheel without striking it.

She would have loved him forever. Forever. That's what he'd said.

Liar. "Goddamn, motherfucking liar!" Her voice surprised her when it came out thick and slurred. She must have drunk way more than she thought. The rosy glow in the east grew and she held the bottle up to the light, measuring her drunkenness in amber inches.

Fuck. Her thumb struck the wheel. Fuck him. The flame glowed with gentle warmth in her hand. Fuck them all.

She stood unsteadily on the pitched surface and turned the bottle up. It splashed against her bare feet, surprisingly warm, and ran down the roof away from her, soaking into the shingles as it went. Her eyes lifted again to the sunrise, which in another mood she might have considered a beautiful promise of a fresh new day.

The tiny flame in her hand seemed more promising to her at the moment. She crouched down and touched it to the wet spot at her feet and it caught, dancing licks of pale blue chasing each other down the roof in the direction the liquid had run. It was mesmerizing and for a few minutes she just stood there, caught in its dim glow.

Time to go. The edge of the roof cut into her fingers as she lowered herself down, feet seeking the purchase she knew was there. She'd done this a hundred times before, climbing down from her secret getaway spot. Of course, she wasn't usually quite this drunk.

Where the fuck was that window sill?

Her toes reached, stretching further than she knew they needed to and her fingers trembled with the effort of holding on. Her head spun from whiskey and panic and her legs frantically bicycled against the vinyl siding. She looked down trying to see her foothold, but all she saw was the driveway, blurred and wobbly, impossibly far away. And getting closer

Warm sunlight spread over the house as the light dimmed in her eyes. The thick liquid running down the driveway toward the gutter slowly turned from black to red as the earth lit up. On the roof, the blue flames burned themselves out and disappeared. In the driveway lay broken things. An empty bottle. A silver lighter.

Broken things but not a broken girl. Ivy a was a woman not easily broken. She'd made her choice to love Lax...if he didn't love her back, well...fuck him. She'd return to New York City, to a time and place before she ever met Lax Morales. She would survive and use her pain to thrive in spite of him.


	12. Corazon De Oro

_-This chapter picks up at the end of ch 10 when Lax leaves Ivy in NYC to contemplate a relationship as he heads off to interview Herman Howards-_

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... . ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .

Lax struggled not to call Ivy from Iowa. He found himself wanting to talk to her about the kid. He wanted to vent and throw his ideas out to her. He needed her voice the way he'd never needed Isa's. This kid...the kid was so messed up. The more he filmed and talked to him the more ambiguous he felt. Herman Howards had killed his classmates and three of his teachers. His tales of bullying,..what did it prove? Did it justify his actions? Was it an excuse? No. Still Lax had been bullied so a part of him understood. He may have wanted to get even with his tormentors, but thoughts and actions are two separate things. Why didn't Herman just wait and go to college and make friends there?

He didn't call the first day. He didn't want to push her. He focused on editing tape and scribbling thoughts as to how to put it together for his show. What kind of message did he want to express with this. Anti-death penalty, gun control, violent video games or pro kids murdering their bullies. Was the Howards kid a victim or a monster?

On the second afternoon, Herman brought up Jerome Johnson. He knew about Lax's time in Georgia.

"You're just like me…" the kid had said. No, he wasn't. Lax had killed to stop a race war. Lax had killed because he had no choice; not to get media attention….or had he? It reminded him of Isa's question all those weeks ago. Why did you do it?

"So this was all a game to you huh Herman?"

"It's all a game Lax. Wasn't it a game when you bashed that nigger's head in with a bat?"

"Excuse me?"

"Down in Georgia. You killed that nigger. Did that seem real to you?"

"The official investigation confirmed that never happened."

"Well, all the of other guys who were there say it did."

"Where did you get that?" Lax leaned forward on the table separating them. He'd rolled the sleeves of his black button down shirt above his forearms revealing the wolf head tattoo that now covered his SS bolts.

"WWW dot KKK dot com. Georgia faction When you won the Pulitzer for writing about them they had a few things to say about you Lax."

"What else do you think you know about me Herman? Oh and do you make it a habit to surf hate sites?" He asked chewing the pen cap he held between his teeth. God he needed a cigarette.

"I have respect for anyone willing to stand up for their beliefs. Besides people's websites are where you really learn stuff. The web is the truth the way people really are. You should know that Lax." Herman paused. "Lax Morales. Sound Puerto Rican or something. "

"Mexican. Does that make you want to kill me too?"

"No. Just think its funny."

"Well, that's it for today. I'll be back tomorrow."

He wrestled with the images and questions in his hotel room for a while. Finally, unable to stand looking at the blank walls, he went downstairs to the Holiday Inn bar. He noticed Isa sitting at a table with her news editor and cameraman. She motioned asking if she could come over. He shook his head. He needed to be alone. How could he let some fifteen-year-old kid make him doubt himself?

After a few whiskeys, he headed back to his room. He wasn't drunk, but he was feeling the alcohol and told himself that's why he called.

"Hey, Lax." Ivy's sleepy voice met his ears and immediately set a calm pulsing through him. "Are you home already?" She asked.

"No" His voice was rough and raspy from day long interviews and drinking. "Just needed to hear your voice."

"Sweet, but Lax we agreed…we need to think about this."

"He knows Ivy. Herman, the kid, he knows about Georgia. He said I was like him...no better than him; a media whore…" Lax slurred.

"Stop it. You saved a lot of lives. You made a difference. You did one of the bravest things anyone could do. You risked your own life to save others. You stopped them."

He lay on his side holding the phone to his ear pretending she was laying beside him. "You understand…even after what I did to you and what happened to you, you get it…'

"Shhh... I know. It's okay…."

"Man, it's so much worse than I thought. This kid...is he really the future? They are going to execute him and make his a martyr. A symbol. That's gonna encourage more like him. And me...am I just adding to it all... giving him what he wants? Media attention. He'll be a celebrity. I'm creating more monsters. How am going to spin this Ivy? What's my angle?'

"Truth. Just tell the truth Lax. You don't need to spin anything about Herman. Tell other kids it's not worth it. There are other ways to be heard. Do something else to get attention in positive ways. Tell the truth Lax that's all you have to do. You made it out of a tough childhood. You didn't kill your bullies. You worked hard to get where you are. Now you have a voice. Lax, use your position to help; offer hope. That's how you honor Jerome Johnson."

Lax sighed, nodding. "And honor what happened to you Ivy. You're pretty smart, know that?"

"And what he did...it's not your fault."

"I've thought enough. I want you Ivy. When I get back…I want us to try..., please."

"Hey, no 'what are you wearing' first?" She asked weakly trying to be funny.

"Ivy."

He heard her sigh and her voice caught as she answered, "Okay. Yeah. I want it too."

"Are you smiling? I'm picturing your smile Ives."

Before she could answer there was a knock on his door. Lax groaned, rolling over and up off the bed. He opened it to see Isa and motioned for her to wait.

"Gotta go, but I'll call when I'm home. Hey, I love you."

"Who was that?" Isa asked surprised.

"Nobody."

"You don't say I love you to nobody."

He sighed. "We need to talk Isa. I'm seeing someone."

"You're drunk."

"No. I'm being honest. Finally."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .

The next day Lax felt back on his game. Talking with Ivy had restored his confidence and calm. Finally telling Isa once and for all it was over was like losing a dead weight from his shoulders. He set up his camera more focused than he'd been since he'd arrived at the prison.

"Is it hard knowing you're going to be dead in two days?" Lax asked, trying to read the boy's expression.

"Your compassion is touching."

"See that's the thing Herman I don't know that I even give a fuck anymore."

"What?"

"We have real problems in this world. Melting glaciers, massive unemployment, crumbling nations with nuclear missiles You think I have time to worry about some depressed kid from the suburbs going to his school and killing people to express his rage?"

"It worked didn't it?"

"How did it work?"

"You're here aren't you?"

"You did it for this?" It was what Lax had been afraid of.

"It was the only way to get you to pay attention to me.'

"You're going to be killed. You destroyed hundreds of lives. You inflicted pain on innocent people. You gave up everything and you did it all just to be on my show?"

"You have to do the unspeakable to be noticed."

"You are so twisted. You think anyone is gonna care about you in two months? You're gonna be a footnote listed next to a bunch of other forgotten footnotes." Lax started to raise his voice.

"Google me in twenty years Lax then we'll see who's right."

"Don't you see what kind of person it takes to plan and carry out the massacre of thirty-nine children and three adults?"

"What kind of person Lax?"

"Evil, Herman."

"Were you evil when you hit that kid with a bat?" The boy countered.

"Yes. Yes I was, I had to be."

"So did I."

Lax shook his head in disbelief. "I was saving lives. It was a war. In a war, when it comes down to it you use basic arithmetic. I let one boy die so thousands could live. One life for a thousand. That's why I did it. That's why I allowed myself to do it. Why did you allow yourself to become evil?"

"You know why.'

"No, I don't."

"Because it felt good! Because for one moment in my nothing life I got to know what it feels like to be God. And it feels good. You don't have to say it Lax I know you understand. You tasted it."

"You think we're alike?" Lax shook head. "I felt like God before sure, but it was when I saw Sean Gall slapped on a table handcuffed and arrested. Tell you the truth, that turned me on. But I didn't feel like God when I hit that child. That child who had been tied up and gagged by bullies just like the ones you hate. You and I are nothing alike."

Lax stood and put his camera away gathering his papers. "I think I have all I need here. Thanks for your time."

"That's it?"

"That's your fifteen minutes kid. Hope it was worth it.'

"Hey, Lax you think the nightmares will ever go away?"

Lax was thoughtful and Ivy came into his mind. "Yes. I do. Now I do."

"Lax you think I'm going to hell?"

… … … … … .. .. … .. … … … .

New York

Isa checked the peephole surprised to hear rapping at the door. It was a woman. Blood red hair, tattoos. It had to be that Ivy. She quickly stripped her dress over her head and reached for one of Lax's button down shirts. She threw it on and mussed up her hair

Ivy had planned to surprise Lax. He'd called her that morning to let her know he was back so she headed to his apartment. She figured he'd be wound up from the interviews and need to talk.

She knocked and was taken by surprise when a woman answered the door. She thought she had the wrong loft. She felt bad she'd obviously pulled this woman out of bed.

"I'm sorry I think I'm at the wrong door." Ivy smiled and was about to move down the hall when the woman asked, "who are you looking for?'

"Lax Morales," I have the address here, I probably wrote the number wrong…"

"No, this is his..anything I can help you with?"

Her anticipation turned to a lead weight that dropped into her stomach. Ivy was lost for words as her eyes traveled the woman's body bristling at her appearance. "I…"

"You must be Ivy."

"How do you know my…"

"I'm Isa, Lax's girlfriend, fiancé actually. He's mentioned you. You are doing a tattoo for him?"

"Girlfr ...? What the hell are you talking about. Lax is single, he…"

"Look honey why don't you come in. Lax hasn't been completely honest with you and I think it's just terrible. We are engaged. We've been together for a very long time. Years."

"Years?" When he was in Georgia, he wasn't with anyone.

" I'm sorry he led you on. I'm just trying to help you, tell you the truth. I think he was going through something, wanted to ….experiment…."

The tone of the woman's voice was dismissive and judgmental. Ivy didn't need that on top of everything else.

"I see." Ivy couldn't speak her throat closed and her stomach twisted in a knot. "I have to go."

She turned to the door and walked straight into Lax.

'Ivy…"

Her look was cold but panicked. She shoved past him.

He stopped her in the hall by the elevator.

"Wait what's going on?"

"Why didn't you tell me about her? All this time. In Georgia even. God damn you…"

"What? What what did she say? I'm not with Isa. Is that what she said? She's here to help me with some tape edits..."

"Yeah, she looks dressed for work. You know, save it. Too many times Lax. Too may times you expect me to just take you back. I can't."

"She's lying."

"I fucking trusted you. My mistake."

She had wanted him for free. Not a single one of those other assholes like Isa could say that. As much as they looked down on her she knew what they were really about. They all wanted something from him; just waiting for him to hit it big, riding along on his coattails, getting antsy and eager now that success seemed imminent. She never wanted anything from him, she just wanted him. And he had said he was hers no matter what.

Forever.

That's what he'd said.

Liar.

"Goddamn, motherfucking liar!" She shouted as she tripped down the front steps to the street.

Lax stormed back into his apartment. "What did you do?"

Isa's smile disappeared. "I am saving you and your career. We are good together. Professionally and personally. You know that. Come on Lax, her? Really? Are you trying to marginalize yourself? Keep yourself as a fringe reporter? You have a damn Pulitzer and I'm going to help you ride it to the top. I'm good for you; we're good together. That girl...well come on...you're not serious? She's a ... "

"What Isa, what is she?"

…. .. … .. … .. .. … . .. … .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. … .. .

Ivy wasn't holding back tears. She was little too rambunctious, a little too buzzed for that. She'd been at the première of her Tattoo Shop's reality show. After the confrontation with Lax's fiancé Isa something or other, Ivy had almost begged off of the party. However, friends convinced her to attend. Lax was supposed to have been her date. Lax was supposed to have been a lot of things. Dressed for combat in a full-skirted fifties prom dress and 14 hole Doc Martens boots a six-pack off Bud dangled casually from her wrist. With ease, she climbed the fire escape and rickety roof ladder of her apartment building in Greenwich Village. Now as the sun was setting with a pink and orange glow over the buildings around her, she sipped her beer and realized Lax had put her in the same place she'd been in Georgia. Sitting on a roof calling him an asshole and motherfucker. As the sky became dark, night-blooming jasmine and damp tar paper scented the warm air. I am too naïve. I never should have believed him…I am stronger than any man any man but him...

"I'm fucking Poison Ivy. I don't need Lax!" She stood teetering a bit as she said the words with triumph.

Fuck, Jack White's been trying to get me to go out with him since I did a tattoo a couple months back... and that actor from the zombie show on TV keeps sending flowers wanting an appointment. I think I call him. I'll call them both. Fuck Lax.

Below the street was a whisper. She surveyed New York City wondering how she could be so tough; she absently touched the scar on her face. How could survive everything except this man who continually brought her to her knees? The city was twinkling like a sequined black velvet Mexican painting. She wouldn't waste any more tears on Lax Morales.

Don't say you need me you'll just leave me again. I'm done...

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. .. ... .. .. ... . . .. . ..

He stared at the phone in his hand. The seven digits stared back at him. He could do this. He could dial the number... He couldn't do it.

"God, stop being such a fucking pussy and call the fucking number," he muttered to himself. It and been three days since Ivy had stormed out and he'd kicked Isa to the curb. Isa was gone. Once and for all. He had to tell Ivy she was lying. He stood quickly, and in three strides he paced while he dialed the number before he could think about it again. He listened to the ring one, twice... three times. He was just about to hang up when he heard a breathy greeting.

"Hello?"

"Hi."

Even over the phone he could feel the tension. He heard her sharp intake of breath, waited to hear the click and dial tone as she hung up on him. He deserved nothing less. He had taken something innocent and good and turned it into...

"What do you want, Lax?"

That was a loaded question. What did he want? He wanted her not to hate him. He wanted to start over. He wanted to pretend like the past couple of days hadn't happened. He wanted not to see her eyes filled with tears as she stood in by the elevator while the doors shut before he walked away.

"I want to see you."

"We have nothing to talk about."

"We have everything to talk about. You don't know what you saw."

"I got the message loud and clear when your girlfriend told me the truth. You are with someone else. You used me."

He hated the dejected tone of her voice. Hated that it was because of him that she didn't sound vibrant, happy, and giggly. He hated that he'd listened to Isa. Believed they could just work together. That he'd taken the easy road and the connections that came with her. That he'd kept her in his life at all since Ivy had come back to him.

"Ivy... listen... it wasn't..."

"You listen, you bastard. There is nothing that you could say right now that would make me want to see you."

"Ivy... I love you... please, hear me out."

Silence greeted his declaration. She'd told him time and again how she felt, professed her love, made him feel loved... he'd done the same but when it came time to walk the walk he'd let her down. Twice now. He was a coward. But he was trying to change everything. Trying to make it the way it should've been.

"Please," he begged one more time. He heard a sniffle on the other end of the line.

"Fine come to my apartment. You can say you're sorry."

"I don't want to just apologize."

She made some garbled noise that might have been an insult to him. He wasn't sure. But then she clicked off and he put the phone back before sprinting out the door and down the steps to the busy street. He made it to her house in an obscenely short amount of time.

Taking the steps up to her door two at a time, he froze before he could knock. He didn't know how to start explaining. Didn't know how to get his point across. What if he said the wrong thing and she told him to leave? He pressed his head against the wood and counted to three before tentatively knocking.

He heard footsteps slowly dragging across the hardwood floor and backed up so he didn't look like a complete jackass. She opened the door and he stared down at her, taking in the tear-stained cheeks, the red nose, the bloodshot eyes.

Fuck, I made her cry again.

"Ivy.."

The sting of her hand spread across the entire right side of his face as she slapped him as hard as she could. The blow made a loud crack and he was pretty sure the noise bounced off the walls of her entryway. He looked at her, completely shocked, and opened his mouth to apologize when she reared back and hit him again.

"You lying, cheating, no-good, slimy, two-timing sonofabitch! Did you really think you could just come over here and tell me that you were sorry and I'd magically fall into your arms again? That I'd believe the lies, you said over the phone? Who does that?"

He was so surprised by her outburst that he didn't have time to protect himself when she reached out and started hitting him. The punches didn't hurt, and he knew she needed to get this out of her system, but he wanted to at least do this inside, so that nosy neighbors didn't end up calling the cops.

Lax grabbed her arms and pushed her through the door, shutting it tightly behind him. She was still attempting half-hearted blows and sobbing. He did the only thing he could think of and pulled her to him. As he enveloped her in his embrace, he felt her shudder out a breath and the sobs turned into wails as she clutched at his shirt.

"Shhhh, Ives, I'm here. I'm here and I'll never leave you again," he said quietly. She sagged against him and he let them both slide down to the floor. Leaning back against the door he rocked her in his arms, praying he could find the words to tell her exactly how stupid he was for what he'd done, and the pain he'd caused.

"I want to hate you so much. I want to rip out your heart and put it in my food processor. On high speed." The last part was broken up by a hiccup and he had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing at how adorable she was right now. If he did laugh, or if she saw the smile on his face right now, she'd no doubt start her tirade all over again.

"Take it."

"What?" She looked up at him, her eyes wide with shock and glistening beautifully because of the tears she'd just cried. He didn't think she'd ever looked so beautiful.

"Take my heart. It's always been yours. I was just too big of an idiot to realize what you meant to me until I didn't have you anymore."

"Please! Now you want to make me puke? Save the pathetic lines. You really hurt me Lax."

"I know. And I can't take it back... But I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. Just... just give me that chance. Isa and I are not together. We weren't together when I was in Surville. And we haven't been together since I found out you were in New York. What you saw the other day it wasn't...she was trying to cause trouble. Isa and I have never been right for each other, but she wouldn't accept it. She's gone. I am not even working with her. Please believe me Ivy."

"No more Isa?"

"No. Just you and me, the way it should've been from the beginning."

He felt her shift in his arms and she leaned back to look at him, peering up from beneath those long fucking lashes that drove him crazy.

He still took her breath being near him. She'd been lying to herself thinking she could let him go.

"If you ever make some stupid mistake like that again…its over. I can't do this again. I've been through too much shit in my life to be treated this way…."

She didn't get to finish her sentence because he pulled her close and covered her mouth with his. He kissed her senseless and then kissed her some more. When they finally broke apart, he stared lovingly into her eyes while they both fought to catch their breath.

"Say you're sorry," she murmured.

"I love you," he countered. He watched the tentative smile bloom on her face until it reached her eyes.

"That'll do," she said with a sad smile and pulled him back for another kiss, dragging him forward until he was lying on top of her on the floor. "Now show me."

Lax's lips came down on hers, searching, molding. It was tender and exploring. His tongue swept across her lips and they parted. She drew his tongue into her mouth and rubbed her own against it. It was slow, leisurely. They didn't have to hurry. They had forever.

Lax settled himself more firmly between her legs and Ivy hiked her knees up, opening herself to him. His hand moved up and brushed her hair back from her face, then rested on her neck. He could feel the beat of her pulse with his thumb and it almost met the speed of his own.

"Touch me Lax." Ivy's back arched as she pressed her hips up into him turning his own phrase back on him.

Lax and his damn fingers. His hand slid down and brushed across her breast. She gasped and her nipple hardened under his fingertips. He trailed slow, lazy circles around it, then moved over to undo the buttons of her shirt. Once undone, he unsnapped the front clasp of her bra and he leaned back so he could enjoy the view.

He scooted down and took one nipple into his mouth. It was already hard, but he pulled back and blew on it lightly. Ivy shivered, a small moan escaped her lips. He moved on to the other side and gave that one the same attention.

Ivy swept her hands down the muscles of his back, then up his sides. Her hips wriggled beneath him, feeling how hard he was through the layers of their jeans. She wanted more. Reaching down, she tried to unfasten his pants, but their hips were too close.

"Let's go to the bedroom. I need room to work." Ivy smiled and pushed up against him.

Lax stood, then helped her up. Once in the bedroom, she stopped at the edge of the bed and turned to face him. Her hair was tousled, her shirt undone, her breasts swaying free. Lax thought she'd never looked more beautiful.

He stopped in front of her and her hands went for his pants. Once undone, he helped her slide them down his legs. Then down his boxers went. When he straightened, he reached for her jeans.

"I think you're overdressed."

"Says the man still wearing his shirt."

Lax paused and stripped the rest of the way down.

Ivy pushed her jeans down her legs, and her thong followed soon after. She let her shirt and bra fall off her arms.

For a moment, the pair just stared at each other. Then Lax dropped to his knees in front of her, lifting one of her legs over his shoulder. Ivy reached down and balanced herself with his other shoulder. She gasped as she felt his tongue lap along her inner thigh. He placed light kisses up her leg until he came to the center of her. The tip of his tongue traced along the seam of her lips, then plundered in deeply. Ivy whimpered as her body shook.

Lax lifted his hands to her hips to steady her, and he let his tongue seek out, then find her clit. His lips sealed around it and he sucked, flicking his tongue across it. Ivy's knees almost buckled. She was already wet, but with this attention she felt a whole new rush of moisture. When she felt his fingers gently probing entrance, her whole body quivered.

"Lax that's enough.. I need.."

He gave her clit a graze with his teeth and she whimpered again.

"You need what?" His tongue lapped out to drink in her essence.

"You.. God, Lax... please..."

He pulled back and set her leg back down. She turned and crawled up onto the bed, her limbs shaking. He moved right behind her.

"How do you want me?" Ivy's body was thrumming with unfulfilled want.

"On your back."

She rolled over and he came up between her legs. He caught her under her thighs and pushed them back so they were almost level with her shoulders. His cock was at her entrance, gently probing. Ivy's hips writhed and pushed, trying to get him inside of her. A startled yelp escaped as he thrust his hips and embedded himself fully on the first stroke. It didn't hurt, but she felt him hit her womb.

"Shit.…Lax.…"

Lax set the rhythm. He kept it shallow for a time, then started pulling out farther. She clamped her muscles around him each time he withdrew and Lax moaned in time with her moves. He shoved her legs up higher and she tilted her hips so he hit bottom each time. He started moving faster. He could feel it building, and it wasn't going to last much longer. He released one of her legs and moved his hand to her pussy. Spreading her wetness up, his fingers slipped over her clit. Ivy's head tossed restlessly on the pillow, and her hands tangled in the sheets.

"Come on baby.." Lax's fingers pulsed against her clit, then rubbed circles. Ivy's hands weren't bound, but she felt just as much at his mercy as if they were. "Want you to come for me..." His hips thrust faster as his fingers circled. He wasn't going to come without her. He didn't have long to wait as the sensations assaulting her body pushed her quickly toward climax and her first orgasm hit hard. Her whole body shook and she pulled against his hold on her leg, the sharp pain shooting her up even higher into the stratosphere. Her back arched as she moaned, her hips jerking up against his frantically. Her pussy clasped around him, quivering. Lax didn't slow down when he felt her contract around him, if anything he sped up and pounded into her harder, only vaguely aware of her fingernails digging into his shoulders and the animalistic noises she was making. It wasn't until she came the second time and her legs clamped so tight around him they restricted his movement that he finally slowed, letting her come down long enough to allow her legs to fall away.

"Say it," he said, his voice hoarse in her ear, his hips still rocking steadily against her. He hooked his hand behind her knee and pulled it up to his waist. Ivy's mind was spinning. She was a limp, incoherent puddle of pleasure and she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Say it," he demanded louder, thrusting hard and grinding into her mercilessly.

"Fuck me," she murmured, beginning to return to her senses.

Lax pulled her head to the side and licked all the way up her neck from her collarbone to her ear, sending shivers down her spine. "All of it," he growled and then snaked his tongue deep into her ear.

"Oh god," she gasped as the sensation took her breath away. "Fuck me hard. Please, Lax. Fuck me hard."

In one smooth motion, he let go of her hair and pushed his body up as he thrust deep inside her. He pulled her leg from his waist and hooked it over his shoulder, sliding even deeper, completely robbing her of breath as he pounded into her. Lax watched through hooded eyes as she writhed and shook under him; words he'd never heard her use pouring out of her mouth as she begged for more.

She cried when she came, arching up off the bed and pressing against him, trying to take more of him inside her. Watching her in the throes of such intense pleasure pushed him over the edge and he thrust one final time. Lax groaned and gave a few last pumps with his hips, gasping at the force of his orgasm. The entire time he came, Ivy's muscles clamped and released, milking every last drop from exploding inside her. As the tension drained from his body, he let her leg slip from his shoulder and collapsed on top of her, cradled between her legs with her arms wrapped tightly around his body.

Several minutes later Lax smiled when he felt her fingers gently playing with the wisps at the back of his neck. "I know you probably can't breathe, but I don't ever want to move." He turned his head to bury it in her hair and took a deep breath, absorbing her fresh scent.

She tightened her arms around him, holding him in place. "Breathing is overrated."

After a few seconds, he rolled so that she was on top of him. "I didn't want to crush you." Lax panted.

"Mmm, this is nice too." Ivy pushed her hair from her eyes. She lay down on his chest and nuzzled his shoulder.

Their heartbeats finally slowed, and Ivy felt him softening in her. She squeezed him.

"Shit, don't do that." Lax groaned a chuckle.

"I just wanted you to stay longer." Ivy's tongue darted out and lapped at his ear.

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you were innocent."

"I was." To demonstrate her point, she rocked her hips against him and squeezed again.

"What the...Ives you're going to start it up again."

She could already feel him twitching.

"So?" She nibbled his earlobe and moved against him, rubbing herself on his chest.

"A man doesn't even get time to recharge." Lax laughed.

"Mmm, feels pretty recharged to me." She rolled her hips, feeling him hard inside her again.

"You asked for it." With a growl, Lax lunged up and rolled her to her back. His hands pinned her wrists above her head.

"Say it." He licked his lips above her.

"Fuck me." Ivy lifted her hips invitingly. "Slow this time...slow..."

"If you insist."

... ... ... ... .. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. .. .. .

Ivy rolled over, stretching towards Lax's side of the bed. It was empty. And cold. So he had been up for a while. Opening one eye, she spotted him across the room at her desk. He was checking his email. A glance at the clock told her it was a little after ten.

"Why didn't you wake me?" She yawned.

"You looked sweet. I wanted to keep that image as long as I could." Lax smiled slightly.

"Shush. Where's my coffee and breakfast in bed?"

"Sorry, but that must be your other boyfriend." Lax laughed as he stood. "Actually, coffee I can do."

As he left the room, Ivy sprang from the bed and ran to the bathroom. She ran back in and dove under the covers just as he was walking back in.

"Cheater! You could have gotten it yourself!" Lax acted like he wasn't going to give her the coffee.

"Please! I just had to pee. You couldn't do that for me." Ivy laughed, pulling Lax's shirt on.

"You're right. I lose again." He sat on the edge of the bed and passed her the steaming cup.

"Ivy, we need to talk."

"Uh oh. I know how these conversations go."

"You're beautiful, all sleepy-eyed, your hair a mess, your make up smeared.."

"Okay, Romeo."

"You are. I love it. I want to see you like this every day..."

Ivy took a sip of her coffee.

"..for the rest of my life."

Ivy set her coffee on the nightstand and as he shifted reaching for something in his pocket Ivy opened her mouth, almost in shock. "Lax, are you…You're not. Are you?"

"Marry me," He implored, holding a ring box.

"You don't have to do this." She gasped moving back and hugging her knees to her chest.

"Yes, I do. Look, I'm not going anywhere. Enough talking. This means I'm committing. I want to be with you for the rest of my life and its time for me to put up or shut up. I need to to do this. So I'm asking. Will you marry me?"

"Yes. Fuck yes.." Ivy smiled.

Lax nodded and smiled back. "That's just how I thought you'd answer."

... ... ...

It was chilly and Ivy adjusted her scarf and zipped her leather motorcycle jacket as she and Lax stepped out onto the street heading to Altar her tattoo shop. The swastika would finally be covered. They could really move forward. He had needed to keep it there until he knew he had Ivy. Now that he knew they were one he didn't need that small piece of their past no matter how distasteful it was. Now he didn't need any reminders because he had her, the woman.

She twisted the simple antique, white gold and diamond engagement ring on her finger over the inked I in the world pain, feeling unreal.

"Give me a minute," she skipped toward a street vendor's cart that sold her favorite incense. He caught up and she held one package out for him to smell. He nodded but stiffened, suddenly feeling a hand on his arm. Ivy noticed the change in his demeanor and that he began to move away as if someone was pulling him. She set the boxes down and turned fully, seeing Isa with her hand running up and down Lax's back trying to get close and whisper to him.

"Fuck off bitch. He's mine." Ivy said with a steady voice surprising Lax, who couldn't help but smile. Ivy was not playing nice. He stepped back toward her.

"Excuse me?" Isa asked looking at Lax, not Ivy.

Lax smiled and pulled Ivy tightly to him.

"Lax, did you hear what she said to me?"

"Your cab is waiting Isa." He answered bluntly.

Lax turned, slinging an arm around Ivy's shoulder and pulled her so she fell against him, but gracefully.

"Back off bitch?" He teased. "Really?"

"Fuck you. Heat of the moment." She giggled.

As they began walking through the city crowd they were inseparable, their pace perfectly in sync.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. .. .. ... ... .

**_Thanks for taking this journey with Lax and Ivy. I appreciate all of you who read and reviewed so consistently. It means the world. Love to all you guys_**

**_xx_**


End file.
